


Cities in Dust

by blithesea, womenseemwicked



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 1990s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chubby Billy Hargrove, Domestic Boyfriends, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Future Fic, Hairdresser Steve Harrington, Lack of Communication, M/M, Misunderstandings, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Season/Series 02, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Smart Billy Hargrove, a smidge of Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 32,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23962063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blithesea/pseuds/blithesea, https://archiveofourown.org/users/womenseemwicked/pseuds/womenseemwicked
Summary: Billy and Steve have been together since the late ‘80s and have built a life for themselves in New York City that neither of their teenage selves would’ve believed possible.But it’s not all happily ever after. The boys have slipped into patterns over the years that they realize now, as they return to Hawkins for the first time as a couple after 12 years, have left them further from each other and where they started than they ever thought they would get.The question is, are they too proud to admit where they’ve gone wrong and fight their way back to each other after all this time? Who will give in first, and will they learn to finally communicate?
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Steve Harrington & Steve Harrington's Parents
Comments: 35
Kudos: 112
Collections: Cowritten fics by Mei and Theo





	1. the invitation

**Author's Note:**

> a BIG thank you to [gothyringwald](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothyringwald/pseuds/gothyringwald/works) for her invaluable help beta-reading this thing after we had read it through so many times we were seeing stars.
> 
> this fic ignores all of s3 because we started writing this before s3 dropped and didn't feel like rewriting everything to account for it.

Steve is still on the phone when Siouxsie jumps up from her place at his feet and shuffles out of the room, signalling that Billy’s home before the front door even opens.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Steve says, getting up to follow. “I’ll ask him, but I’m sure you're right. There must have been some kinda screw-up with the mail.”

He watches Billy come into the living room, dropping stuff everywhere. His keys on the table, his coat on the floor, his scarf on the couch. He's heading for Steve until he realizes Steve is on the phone, and then raises his eyebrows and pauses.

Steve mouths “Nancy” at him, and Billy snorts and changes course towards the kitchen.

“No, not gonna feed you,” he hears Billy grumble when Siouxsie quickly runs after him, ever hopeful for a snack. “You’re getting too fat as it is. Go shed on someone else.”

Stifling a laugh, Steve tries to concentrate on Nancy’s voice in his ear again. “Yeah, Labor Day is fine, we don’t have anything planned, I’m sure,” he answers, still wondering how on earth the invitation could have gotten lost. They’ve received plenty of mail since moving into this apartment, and never had trouble with missing letters before. There’s probably always a first for that kind of thing. _And a second, with the invite_ and _the save-the-date,_ his mind provides unhelpfully. “Anyway, if we did, we’d reschedule. What do you take me for?”

After the conversation winds down and they hang up, he joins Billy in the kitchen where he’s digging through the fridge, frowning.

“Stir-fry leftovers from Tuesday, is that all we got?” he complains.

Steve leans in to kiss his cheek and grab a soda. “Hello to you, too.”

Billy hums a hello back and fondles Steve’s ass a little as he walks away, but otherwise stays put.

“Guess we _could_ do enchiladas, but ugh…” He pulls the stir-fry container out and plops it down on the counter.

Nudges the fridge shut with his hip as Steve sits down at the table to pet the dog while he sips.

“So that was Nancy,” he says, because Billy isn’t even asking, though he usually does. He may not be as close to her and Jonathan as Steve is, but they're comfortable around each other, the four of them spend time together whenever Nancy and Jonathan are back in the city. Billy may grumble about entertaining Indiana country hicks, but Steve can tell that he’s relaxed in their presence. Not trying to be someone else.

“Oh?” Billy offers, barely even interested. He’s sniffing the container and pulls a face. “I’m gonna call out for food. You feel like sushi?”

Steve shrugs. “I guess. Anyway, Nancy and Jonathan are finally getting married! And we’re invited, apparently. She said we should have gotten an invitation weeks ago. Did you see anything?”

Billy pauses with his hand in the takeout menu drawer and chews his lip a little before shaking his head.

“No, I didn’t see it. Must’ve got lost,” he suggests.

Steve nods and picks the dog up to hold her on his lap.

“That’s what I said,” he agrees, frowning. “Anyway, it’s Labor Day. We don’t have plans, right?”

Billy frowns and shuffles through the drawer a bit, shrugging.

“Actually…” Billy finally glances back up at Steve. “I was thinking, maybe, we could go somewhere, just the two of us. Y’know, with this promotion probably coming up I should get a pretty sweet bonus, so I thought we could spend it somewhere. Long weekend wherever you want. Get away from it all. Y’know, just us. And the mutt,” he adds, reaching over to scratch Siouxsie behind the ears.

She gives a little bark in agreement.

“Oh.” Steve smiles, a little pleased, and yes, surprised. So far Billy’s working towards that promotion has only resulted in long hours at the office and tons of files he brings home, even on weekends. Steve hadn’t actually thought Billy was making plans for some off-time. It’s been such a long while since they took a trip together. “I mean, yeah, that sounds great, but… it’s Nancy and Jonathan, babe. They’re only getting married once, and it really seems like they fucking _forgot_ to invite us and then went to the trouble to lie about that and invite us again, so they must really want us there. And I wanna be there, don’t you? Watch Nancy and Jonathan get fucking hitched?” He has to grin just thinking about it.

Billy turns away and shrugs, noncommittal, which is weird. He _likes_ Jonathan at this point, even keeps in touch since NYU. And he gets along fine with Nancy.

“Babe?” Steve tries, and Billy shrugs, grimaces a bit.

“Hell of a long way to drive just for a weekend,” he grumbles. “I mean, I’d probably have to take along some work anyway.”

“Oh.” Steve doesn’t feel like pointing out that Billy was just saying the exact opposite a second ago. _Get away from it all._ Just like that, the pleasure at Billy’s thoughtful plan is extinguished. _Should have known_ , Steve thinks ruefully, feeling silly for getting his hopes up. Billy hadn’t actually meant it. Not if he’s gonna cut short any kind of time they spend together just as soon as work comes calling.

“I know you never wanted to go back to Indiana,” he says, giving Billy a graceful out. “I get it. You don’t have to, I could just go on my own. You don’t have to come with.” It would be so much better with Billy there, but still.

That does get Billy to turn around. Look him in the eye like he’s searching for something, and then shake his head.

“No,” he says, and bends down to kiss Steve so quick that he barely has a chance to respond to it. “I wanna go.”

And, well, that’s clearly overstating things a bit, given how against this he just was, but Steve takes it as a win anyway. Wraps his arms around Billy’s waist and leans in for another kiss, slightly slower.

“It’s gonna be nice,” he says, allowing himself to enjoy the thought a bit. “No, it’s gonna be _great_. We haven’t seen most of the guys for so long, and I bet Max is invited, too. You could call her names to her face for once, instead of over the phone.”

Billy can’t resist a smile at that, and Steve’s heart feels warm in his chest as he mumbles a, “Yeah, that’d be nice.” So maybe it’s gonna be alright.

Steve barely manages to wait until morning to call Nancy and RSVP, but as the days and weeks go by, whenever he tries to mention the wedding to Billy, feels the irresistible urge to gush, he is met with blank stares and curt answers. It gets on his nerves after a while. Sure, Billy has never been as close to Nancy and Jonathan as he has, and maybe things like weddings seem a little more important after you’ve stared down the face of death together, twice. But that doesn’t mean he can’t try to get Billy at least a little into the mood for it. So he keeps mentioning it, trying to point out the ways it’s gonna be _great_ , hoping that at some point he’s gonna win Billy over.

Just a couple of days later they’ve gone to bed, Siouxsie snoring in the basket by the door, Billy poring over some work, and Steve getting ready to fall asleep with the lights on again. Just as he’s zoning out, letting the rustle of paper lull him to sleep, Billy clears his throat.

“Hey listen, I’ve been thinking about this wedding.”

And Steve realizes then that he was a fool for believing that thing was in the bag, that they were actually gonna go together, that it was gonna be that easy. He blinks, turns over to look at Billy. He looks good, glowing from his shower, hair still a little damp. Steve wishes he could turn this conversation around somehow before it happens, maybe fuck the problem away like they used to in their early twenties.

“You don’t want to go,” he says, unable to hide his disappointment. He’s not awake enough for that. Billy has caught him off-guard. “I told you… I can go alone. It’s alright.”

“No,” Billy says, setting some spreadsheet aside on his nightstand and reaching over to take Steve’s hand. Their fingers slot together naturally, and Steve feels just a little more at ease just like that. “But... nobody back there knows about this.” Billy gives Steve’s hand a squeeze. “About us. And if they did… We’ll have to put on a show of hetero bullshit all weekend.”

Steve frowns and pulls Billy’s hand up to kiss it softly. He can feel Billy’s temper flaring just at the thought, but it doesn’t scare him. Hasn’t in _years_.

“It’s just the one weekend,” he says, though he can see Billy’s point, can see why Billy hates it. Hell, he isn’t exactly looking forward to a weekend of getting asked why he hasn’t settled down yet, and if there isn’t any happy girl about to be Mrs. Steve Harrington in the near future. But it’s only a couple of days. They can weather that, surely.

“We don’t have to _hide_ the gay thing, we just… don’t have to flaunt it. Just for a couple of days. And people already know we live together. We don’t have to pretend we don’t know each other, or anything. They’ll expect us to be friendly.”

Billy groans and leans back against his pillows.

“Yeah. _Friendly._ Meanwhile Wheeler and Byers get to declare their undying love in front of everyone and the world. How is that fucking fair?”

“You wanna declare your undying love for me?” Steve purrs, pushes himself up on one elbow. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“You know what I mean,” Billy grumbles, and Steve shakes his head, smiling.

“I heard what I heard.”

He moves in a little closer, runs his hand over Billy’s chest, not as cut as it used to be, perhaps, but still gorgeous, even through the thin t-shirt he’s wearing. “I’d be fine with you showing me, if you’re having trouble vocalizing or anything…”

Billy huffs, and stills Steve’s hand before it can wander any lower down. Even to his waist, thickened just a bit in the past couple years and such a sore spot for him no matter how many times Steve says he loves how he looks.

“That’s not the issue, Stevie,” he sighs. “I love you. You know that.” And if his tone isn’t enough to douse Steve’s fire, the fact that he kisses his forehead then fucking does it.

Steve sighs and flops back to his own side of the bed.

“I don’t know what you’re worried about,” he grumbles. “If those people could see into our bedroom, they’d be convinced we joined a monastery or something.”

“You need something?” Billy asks, still in that fucking _accommodating_ tone, and Steve feels stupid, like a teenager with too many raging hormones.

“No,” he sulks. “Yes. _No_ , not if you’re gonna be like that.”

Billy sighs. Rubs his temples in a way that _really_ doesn’t help with the feeling like a stupid teenager thing at all. Like Billy’s too adult to have sex anymore, and Steve’s being a nuisance for wanting it.

“Well, I could blow you…” Billy thinks out loud. “If we move the comforter out of the way so we don’t have to wash it again tomorrow…”

“Forget it,” Steve mutters, and turns to his side. “Not in the mood, anyway.” Which is a fucking lie. But he’s never been less turned on by Billy in his _life_. His mind flashes back to a time when he and Billy used to do it all the time. Back when they first started fucking and Billy was insatiable. Almost as insatiable as Steve. No, _more_ , Steve decides, feeling sorry for himself. He can’t really say what’s happened since then.

\--- \\\\\\\ ---

Billy is in the shower when the phone rings, so Steve picks it up himself and answers.

“Hello? Yes, just a moment.”

And his heart is beating hard with secondhand anxiety when he dashes into the bathroom and pulls the shower curtain back, hand pressed against the receiver so their voices don’t carry.

“It’s them. Firm number one,” he whispers, and kisses Billy’s wet shoulder. That’s the one he’s been all excited about, the one that’s offered him a job he’d explained to Steve as the essence of what he had moved to New York for.

Billy almost slips on his way out of the shower, but it just adds to their breathless excitement as Steve hands him the cordless phone.

“William Hargrove speaking,” he says, pulling Steve against his soapy wet chest so he can listen too, though all Steve can hear is garbled voices and Billy’s monosyllabic answers.

He barely waits till he gets off the phone before he’s kissing Steve, pressing him up against the bathroom sink.

“I got it,” he hums against Steve’s lips, and Steve kisses back, grinning wide.

“I gathered,” he teases. “Does that mean we get to have steak for dinner?”

“And breakfast, and lunch, if you want, pretty boy,” Billy purrs. “But I’d rather have dessert first, if that’s alright…”

Steve’s laugh turns into a sigh as Billy buries his face in his neck, probably kissing tons of marks into his skin. Their bathroom is entirely too small to do anything in, and Billy’s still slick all over with soap, but his kisses are enough to make up for it when Steve hits his knee hard on the towel rack. And if Billy drips all over the carpet when he picks Steve up and lugs him into the living room, Steve doesn’t even notice. Because he’s got Billy wrapped around him, and then lying down on top of him where they land on the living room floor.

“My hunky mathlete,” Steve teases a little, tangling their legs together and running his hands down the warm skin of Billy’s back appreciatively. “You gonna come home all horny from the big money from now on? Gonna make Wall Street your bitch?”

“You don’t have a clue what I’m gonna do at that job, do you, baby?” Billy asks him, and he looks just as stupidly in love as Steve feels.

Steve laughs.

“Sure I do,” he says confidently, grinding his cock up against Billy’s thigh. “Mergers and Acquisitions. You’re gonna merge things and you’re gonna acquire stuff. Something like that?”

“I’m gonna acquire you in a second, dumbass,” Billy growls, and Steve hums his wholehearted approval.


	2. the car

Steve turns off the stove, covers the mashed potatoes with a lid, and glances up at the clock again, sighing. Billy was supposed to be home half an hour ago, and Steve had thought they’d both been looking forward to the quiet night in. With one of Billy’s biggest contracts yet just finishing up, and Steve’s work day finishing early today…

But another hour passes with no sign of Billy before the front door finally clicks open and Siouxsie jumps from Steve’s lap with a pleased yelp. 

He follows the dog and meets Billy in the entryway, leaning against the archway with his arms crossed.

“Good day at work?” he asks, hating how bitter he sounds, but he can’t help it.

“Work? Yeah, it was alright…” Billy sounds a little like he has to remember he even went to work today, and the fact that he apparently stayed out late for no reason whatsoever makes Steve want to eat the whole casserole on his own just out of spite. Billy is dropping his bag onto the floor, plucking at his jacket, the shirt underneath dotted with sweat from the sweltering heat outside. He smiles a little and dips into Steve’s space to brush a kiss on Steve’s lips, but Steve moves his head, and the kiss ends up somewhere between his ear and neck.

“Why, you been missing me, baby?”

 _Yes_ , Steve’s body seems to answer for him, a hand going to Billy’s arm to hold him close.

“Dinner’s getting cold,” he answers stiffly, wishing Billy’s kisses made him think of anything besides his stupid jealous fantasies of where else those lips may have been lately.

But Billy still doesn’t budge towards the kitchen.

“I wanna show you something first,” he says softly, holding him close when Steve tries to pull away.

And Steve’s pulse goes up a bit just at the sound of his voice, so pleased, so sultry in a way he hasn’t heard it in what must be weeks.

“ _Now_?” Steve asks, trying to beat down the hopeful tone in his voice. He slips his hand up Billy’s chest, gently loosens the knot of his tie as he holds his gaze.

“Bedroom?” he murmurs. Where the hell did they last put the lube? It’s been so long… 

Billy hums and pulls Steve in to finally kiss him on the lips, chaste but heady.

“After,” he suggests, and Steve feels like the floor’s gone out from under him once again. _After what?_

Billy starts pulling Steve with him towards the door. Steve barely has time to clip the leash on Siouxsie’s collar before he’s dragged down the stairs.

“Where are we going?” he asks Billy once they’re stepping outside onto the sidewalk. 

“We’re already there,” Billy gives back, pleased as the cat that got the cream. Steve doesn’t get it. He frowns when Billy shoots a significant look at a car parked next to them. 

“A Corvette? What about it?”

Billy stifles a laugh and holds up an unfamiliar set of keys.

“Just got it from the dealership today. Brand new,” he purrs, and Steve feels his eyes go wide.

And Billy’s still watching him like he’s waiting for Steve to break down with excitement, but Steve can’t help feeling just kind of stupid and a bit betrayed. Like Billy should’ve come and talked to him before spending so much money or something, which, Steve realizes with a pang, Billy has no obligation to do since it’s _his_ money. Billy keeps telling him that it doesn’t matter who chips in what, never has. _We’re comfortable, baby. We’re doing fine. We got all the money we need._

Obviously, if Billy can just go around buying Corvettes on a whim. 

“Do you like it?” Billy nudges, his grin just barely faltering as Steve stays speechless. “I got it for you.”

“For me?” Steve bends down and picks up the dog, just to have something to do with his hands, because they’ve turned a little sweaty. “But we’ve got the old Chevy. And when do I even need a car in the city?”

Billy frowns, like the idea Steve might not be just as excited as he is over the car hadn’t even occurred to him, and Steve feels a bitter twist of satisfaction.

“I didn’t get it ‘cause you _need_ it,” Billy tries, shaking his head. “It’s a _present_. I just… wanted you to have it.”

Steve is keenly aware of the fact that they’re out on the sidewalk, not gathering an audience or anything but still too public to make this a fucking _fight_ , so he makes himself smile. It takes a second, but he manages. “Thanks, Bill,” he says, a little stilted. “It looks awesome.”

Billy looks at him searchingly, like he doesn’t quite buy it. But then he smiles and slips the keys into Steve’s free hand. “Wanna take her for a spin? I got her a more permanent spot in the garage on 168th, you could take her there...”

“No, I got the dog,” Steve says mechanically. “And we left everything on upstairs. I don’t think we even locked up…”

He ignores the lost look on Billy’s face and pushes the keys back into his hand. 

“You go ahead. I’ve gotta…” Steve tries for half a second, and then doesn’t bother to come up with a real excuse to turn on his heel and head up the steps and back inside.

“Steve, what—?” 

For a moment, he wonders if Billy will come after him. Take his hand, make him stop. Ask what’s wrong. But nothing happens, his feet just carry him mechanically, away from Billy and that car.

He feels so _stupid_ that his hand is shaking slightly as he pushes the door open and unclips Siouxsie’s leash. It’s a _car_ , he reminds himself over and over. And a pretty gorgeous one, at that. If only… _what_. If only Billy had brought him car shopping? If only he’d asked permission to use his own fucking money? If only Steve didn’t feel, somehow, like this was just further evidence his and Billy’s lives were spinning further and further apart?

By the time Billy gets back half an hour later, Steve’s given up on dinner entirely and curled up in bed with the dog. Billy doesn’t seem to even notice he’s pretending to be asleep.


	3. the way we make things work

“I’m gonna need the newest reports from the office before we start out tomorrow. You don’t mind if we drop by there first, right?” Billy asks on the night before their departure, as Steve steps into their bathroom to brush his teeth. 

Billy is fresh out of the shower, hair curling gently down to the tips of the tops of his ears, towel slung around his hips, inked arms fully on display. And Steve can’t help himself as he moves to slip past him. Wants to wrap around him from behind, so he does, and brushes his lips over Billy’s broad shoulders. 

“Sure. What time should we start?” he asks, even as he can _feel_ Billy suck in his stomach slightly.

“Early as we can,” Billy answers. “Beat the rat race, make it through the tunnel. Then I can work in the car for a bit and you can take the scenic route, put the Corvette through her paces…”

Steve frowns and disentangles himself from Billy and turns to the sink. He’d almost forgotten Billy actually expects him to drive the new car all the way to Hawkins. 

“You know, since we’re taking Siouxsie and she’s gonna be completely cramped…” he says, “probably scratch the leather with her claws... maybe we better take the Chevy.”

“I—” Billy starts, then finishes plucking a stray hair from his brows and straightens up and starts again. “We could leave the mutt in New York,” he suggests. “I mean, what straight guys have a dog together, anyway.”

Steve frowns. “Are you kidding me? It’s 11pm on the Thursday night before Labor Day weekend. Where are we gonna find a sitter on such short notice?” Besides, if they were gonna leave Siouxsie behind, they might as well have gone by plane. 

“Then just bring her in the Corvette! It’s not like we can’t get it detailed,” Billy huffs. “Do you really think I bought that thing so it can sit in that garage forever?” And, finished with his nighttime routine and apparently finished with the conversation, he turns and walks out of the room. 

Steve wipes his mouth with a hand towel and follows. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “I have no idea why you got that car. Not like you involved me in any part of that process.” 

He knows he sounds pissy, but, honestly. What the hell was Billy thinking?

Billy turns, frowning like Steve’s the one who’s gone crazy.

“It’s just a gift, for god’s sake. I got it because I thought you’d _like_ it!”

And Steve feels the fight drain out of him. Maybe Billy really just wanted to do him a favor. It’s probably just Steve’s own fault if he doesn’t feel happy about it. He lifts his shoulders in a helpless shrug. “I do like it.” 

“Yeah?” Billy’s voice sounds rough. “You got a really strange way of showing it, I gotta tell you.” 

“Can you fucking blame me? I got you a _jacket_ for your birthday, for fuck’s sake!” Steve tries to defend himself. “And it wasn’t even my birthday, you just dropped it on me out of nowhere!”

“Fine! Consider it an early Labor Day present, if that helps! So sorry I want to give my boyfriend some fucking luxury!” Billy tosses his towel vaguely over the back of a chair and stalks over to his dresser for underwear. The weather is still nice and warm, almost summery, so he could sleep in the nude. But they haven’t done that together in ages. The realization makes Steve’s heart feel cold.

He moves over to where Billy is rummaging through the drawers, and carefully puts his hand on Billy’s bare shoulder. Billy, not expecting the touch, flinches a little, but Steve doesn’t let himself be shaken off by that. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “I’m sorry.”

Steve presses a minty-fresh kiss to what he can reach of Billy’s cheek, and slips a hand down to his waist.

“Come on, let’s go to sleep. Gotta get an early start in my sexy new car.”

Billy half-turns at that, and meets Steve’s eyes with a cautious sort of smile, which Steve kisses.

“I love you,” Billy reminds Steve earnestly, and Steve wraps his arms tighter around him.

“I know.” He smiles, and tugs his boyfriend to bed with him.

It’s too warm to lie close together under the light summer sheets, but Steve wraps himself around Billy anyway, and Billy holds him back as they fall asleep, just as tightly.


	4. on the road home

Billy wakes up over an hour before their alarm and, though he wants nothing more than to stay in bed, pressed close to Steve’s warmth, nervous energy propels him forward. He showers, makes coffee, and walks the dog down the street to buy a couple of bacon sandwiches. Itches for a cigarette, but buys a pack of gum instead.

By the time Steve wakes up, Billy’s staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, bemoaning what his sedentary life has done to him and worrying over all that could go wrong with Steve returning to his hometown. The place where he was King. When Steve comes into the room behind him, Billy turns and kisses him, channeling all that worry.

Steve makes a surprised sound, but kisses back quickly.

“Did you make coffee?” he rasps when they pull apart, and Billy nods.

It takes Steve another half hour to get ready, plus what feels like an eternity of him wandering around the house ticking things off a scattered mental checklist until Billy, who really doesn’t want to go on this trip at all, is dying to hit the road already.

He finally puts his foot down when Steve mutters something about sunscreen and turns to head upstairs once again.

“Babe, they’ve got sunscreen in Indiana. _Come_ on.”

And so, finally, they do.

Billy with Siouxsie propped on his lap, wrapped loosely in a thin blanket so she won’t shed _too_ much on his good dark pants. He banishes her to the floor with some difficulty after they make that stop-over at the office and he finally gets the latest information on the Lassiter deal, and by the time he has worked through the stack of files, finally on top of the latest info from overseas markets, Steve has crossed two state lines.

Billy takes a moment to put his papers in order and then watches Steve from the side. He has his sunglasses on and is steering lazily with one hand, the other on the back of the seat, close to Billy. He looks relaxed, rested. Pleased at the prospect of going back home.

 _Home_. Billy feels a bitter taste in his mouth at the word.

“Can you pull over at the next gas station? I need to make a few phone calls.”

“You didn’t bring that mobile phone of yours?” Steve teases him with a smile. “Is it out of juice again?”

“No reception out here in the sticks,” Billy grumbles, and Steve laughs. He really is in a good mood. It’s like he’s getting happier with every mile they get closer to fucking Indiana.

“So how do you like the car?” It’s a desperate bit of fishing. But Billy could use a reminder that the stupid gift wasn’t a complete dud.

“She’s a dream,” Steve admits, and shoots him a grin. “And you fucking know it, dickhead.”

“Eh.” Billy shrugs but smiles, appeased.

Steve walks the dog a little while Billy is on the phone. He watches the two of them fight over a giant stick the mutt managed to find on the way, and has to ask his secretary to repeat herself, twice.

\--- \\\\\\\ ---

Billy looks up, confused when he hears the apartment door bang shut. Usually Steve is out a lot longer on his Saturday run. It’s pouring outside, but that never stops him. He says he likes the way the rain empties the streets. _And I’m not made of sugar, Bill. — Oh really? Maybe I should lick you, just to make sure…_

So something must have happened to make him come home sooner. Billy pushes his folder shut and gets up just as Steve comes into their tiny kitchen.

“Hey. You okay, pretty boy?”

The expression on Steve’s face is oddly guilty. Billy realises why as soon as he sees a black-and-white snout poke out of the collar of Steve’s running jacket.

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” He shakes his head.

“I couldn’t leave her there,” Steve says apologetically, carefully pulling down the zipper. “She was crouching under this bush, took me forever to get her out of there, and she’s hurt her leg, I think…”

“Dammit, Steve,” Billy groans, but one look at the shivering wet mop of black and white fur in Steve’s arms is enough.

“I’ll grab my coat,” he says, and kisses Steve’s damp cheek as he passes.

“She looks like Siouxsie Sioux, all that black around her eyes,” he says quietly later, an arm wrapped around Steve’s shoulders where they stand, watching the vet do her thing. He means it to distract Steve from the concerned look on the doctor’s face as she works, just a silly throw-away comment, but Steve looks up at him with those big brown eyes, all sad, and smiles softly.

“Siouxsie’s a good name,” he says.

“We’re not keeping her,” Billy reminds Steve, just to make things clear. “We’re just gonna make sure she’s alright. Our apartment is way too small. We can’t keep her, you know that.”

Of course they fucking end up keeping her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> visual reference for [Siouxsie Sioux](https://waldinadotcom.files.wordpress.com/2017/05/siouxsie-sioux-01.jpg?w=840) if you fancy it


	5. the hotel

“Alright, Cindy, I’m gonna be off the grid for a while, but you can try my cell if anything comes up, and you got the number of the Hawkins Country Club. Did you confirm our reservations?”

His secretary’s voice suddenly sounds a little worried over the phone. “ _Oh! Actually, Mr. Harrington called last week to let me know you had decided on a private accommodation? I cancelled your rooms at the Country Club… is there a problem?_ ”

Private accommodation? Billy frowns. “No, yeah. Right. I forgot about that. No problem. I’ll check in with you later.”

He hangs up, maybe banging the receiver into the cradle a little harder than necessary.

Steve is exchanging smalltalk with the owner of the little gas station when Billy comes out of the back office, but one look at his face has him finishing up and following him outside.

“Something wrong—” he starts before they get to the car, and Billy turns to face him.

“Were you gonna tell me you changed where we’re staying this weekend, or was it supposed to be a fun surprise for when we get there?”

The dog tries to run off and sniff at a fuel pump, and Steve tugs the leash, bringing her back.

“My mom called me the other week, and I told her we’re coming in for the wedding,” he says, shrugging. A little guiltily. But not nearly guilty _enough_ , to Billy’s mind.

“She insisted we stay with them. Said they’d be happy to put _both_ of us up, even the dog. What was I supposed to tell her?”

“That we already had plans!”

The dog starts whining at their feet, unhappy with the sharp edge to his voice. Steve reaches down to pet her head, but Billy ignores her, ignores the stares that he’s drawing from the few other gas station patrons. Who gives a fuck what people think of him in the middle of Shitsville, Pennsylvania.

“You think I wanna sleep in your old twin bed for three nights, or better yet, down the hall in that stuffy fucking guest room?” he hisses at Steve. “Your parents hate me!”

“It’s gonna be fine,” Steve says, but there’s a tense look in his eyes now. “She asked me straight-on if we would come stay with them. They haven’t seen you in like, forever, and me in over a year!”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about this?”

Steve looks at him, dark eyes wide. “I dunno. Maybe I was worried you’d get mad.”

Billy huffs. He isn’t gonna be guilt-tripped into this.

“You can stay there. Enjoy the loving embrace of your folks. I’m gonna find a hotel room.”

That shuts Steve up fast, which Billy is grateful for two distant country towns later when he’s calmed down enough to realize what an asshole he’s been. Steve’s hand isn’t on the back of his seat anymore, and he’s listening to talk radio instead of singing along to Hootie and the Blowfish or whatever.

The dog whines a bit on Billy’s lap, and he scratches behind her ears before realizing he set her down without the blanket barrier this time.

 _I’m sorry_ , he wants to say. _I’d sleep in a pile of hay if it meant I was with you._

But that feels too loaded. Too much like a lie with the way he knows he’s been acting in the lead-up to this fucking wedding. So instead, he reaches over and changes the station. Steve just frowns at first, but then the first notes of Madonna’s _Like a Virgin_ come through the speakers, and he glances at Billy with a little smile in his eyes.

\--- \\\\\\\ ---

“I made it through the wilderness, somehow I made it through-ooh-ooh--”

“Jesus, Harrington, really?” Billy threatens to change the radio station again and Steve slaps his hand.

“If you change the sta-tion now, I-I will kill youuu,” Steve sings over the song, on the beat.

Billy laughs.

“It’s like she’s right here in the car with me,” he teases.

“Driver picks the music, Hargrove. Suck it up.”

“It’s my fucking car,” Billy grumbles, but he leaves the music on, even though he makes exaggerated faces at Steve’s caterwauling.

“You gonna keep this up all the way to New York, pretty boy?”

“Nah,” Steve grins. “I gotta let you drive again a bit _sometime_ , I suppose.”

“You’re so generous,” Billy snorts, and lights a cigarette. “You got any idea yet what you’re gonna do when we get to the big bad city?”

“Not really.” Steve shrugs, and the way he just doesn’t seem to _care_ is so casually badass, Billy really wants to kiss him. He’s so used to that feeling by now though, pushing it down is almost second nature to him.

“Anything’s better than staying in Hawkins though, right?”

“Right.” Billy leans back and relaxes into the leather seat. And when the station starts playing Van Halen, he sings along, too.


	6. the castle

By the time they pass the Hawkins town line it’s getting dark, and the insane amount of trees only serve to make it darker, but Billy recognizes the sign as soon as they pass it anyway and sits up a little straighter.

After they’d stopped for a second time to stretch their legs he’d taken over behind the wheel. Now Steve has curled up a bit in the passenger seat, napping with Siouxsie stretched out over his lap.

Billy feels the urge to wake him as they pass the first houses and he slows almost down to the speed limit, but Steve looks so damn sweet and Billy knows that coming back here at last doesn’t hold half the weight for him that it does for Billy. _He’s_ been back since they left. Billy hadn’t even come back for his dad’s funeral, years before.

They pass the old military lab building, all overgrown and locked up now. The diner where he and Steve hung out for so much of the summer of ‘85. That little house with the bright yellow door that they’d made up stories about one time when they were high…

Billy turns the radio down to a whisper and glances over at Steve’s sleeping face again. Reaches over and rests a hand on his knee, just to feel him there. 

Siouxsie is awake, though, and tries to lick his hand, so he takes it away again. 

“Here we go, girl,” he says quietly as they get closer to Loch Nora, the houses on the streets set further and further apart. “Are you ready to tango?”

Steve starts to stir just as they pull into his parents’ driveway, gravel rustling. “Hey,” he says sleepily, blinking. “We here already?”

Billy doesn’t answer, but he makes a grand gesture towards the house. _Here we are._

“You probably broke all the speed limits between here and Indianapolis.” Steve grins, but then he seems to remember something and the smile dies. “You gonna take the car with you to the hotel? Or you want me to drop you off there?”

Billy shakes his head. 

“Actually, I was thinking, uh,” he says, pulling the handbrake, “it’s been too long since I slept in somebody’s guest room, anyway…”

Steve raises an eyebrow, smiling a little, and Billy leans in quick to kiss him before his parents come out and cockblock him for the rest of the long weekend. 

“Sorry I yelled,” he mumbles. 

“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Steve gives back, and squeezes Billy’s hand once before he opens the door and gets out. 

Billy gets a stick of gum from the glove compartment and then gets out of the car. Goes to the trunk to get their bags while Steve takes Siouxsie up to ring the doorbell. He knows he’s dragging his feet, but he can’t help it. He’s had dentist appointments he’s looked forward to more than this meeting. 

“Steve!” 

Billy sees the door open and Steve hugging his mother from the corner of his eyes. She pretends to be a little disgruntled at Steve wrinkling her blouse, but looks pleased nevertheless. “Did you come alone?”

“Hi, Linda,” Billy says pleasantly, stepping into the light, and he isn’t surprised at the faint air of disappointment before she takes full control over her features again. 

“Billy. How nice to see you again.”

“Do you have a bowl Siouxsie can drink out of? She’s been licking from water bottles for the past 12 hours,” Steve steps in before Billy has to make small talk, and Billy doesn’t think he’s ever loved him more as Mrs. Harrington leads them inside.

That is, until she spots the bags Billy’s lugging and turns her attention back on him.

“Oh! Here, let me show you where you can put those,” she says, and directs him back toward the stairs and past them. She opens a door at the end of a short hall, opposite what looks like a supply cupboard, and waves him in. “You’re right in here. We’ve just had it redone, so if it smells a bit like paint still, that’s why. I tried to air it out a bit, but…” She gestures to the room and laughs a bit awkwardly.

Billy nods, trying not to look as disappointed as he feels. He remembers there being a guest room upstairs, years ago. Had hoped at least that he’d be within tip-toeing distance of Steve’s room. _You’re being ridiculous_ , he tells himself, though, and sets down his bag at the foot of his bed.

“Where’s Stevie?” he asks then, indicating the other bag in his hand, and if she’s put off by the pet-name she does a good job hiding it.

“Right this way,” she says, and leads him out of the room.

Before they even reach the stairs though, there’s Steve’s dad, in the middle of comfortable conversation with his son, and he shakes Billy’s hand and welcomes him to their home in a way that seems sincere, even heartfelt, no matter how much Billy is inclined to distrust it. 

“We’ll be down with you in a minute,” Steve’s mother promises, putting her hand on Billy’s shoulder to gently direct him towards the stairs. 

“Great, and then we can move to the patio, it’s such a nice evening. Cigar, Steve?” 

The horror of having to spend the whole night in the clutches of these people follows Billy up the stairs as he trudges after Mrs Harrington. 

The house is eerie in its different sameness from the last time he was in it, over a decade ago now. Redecorated to “fit the times” in a way that means the things that are the same stand out even more. There’s a potted plant on the landing that Billy could swear hasn’t moved an inch. 

Steve’s old bedroom looks eerily similar to how it did a decade ago. The Ikea catalog version, with his few posters replaced by landscapes and the smell of teenage boy and hairspray replaced by some cloying air freshener. Billy dumps the bag on the bed, but he has to smile when he takes a closer look. The fucking _twin_ bed is still the same. Stevie’s gonna be cramped as hell, the way he likes to sleep spread out like a starfish. They’d never have fit into this thing, the two of them. Still, it would have been nice to try, he thinks, a little wistfully, as he follows Mrs. Harrington back downstairs. 

After Mr. Harrington’s promised cigars there’s pasta and chicken and the world’s most kid-friendly salad for dinner, at which Billy glances up at Steve to share a smirk, but is met instead with Steve looking away, showing his dad how to get the dog to stop begging. They split two bottles of red between the four of them, by the end of which Billy feels almost sociable. Mrs. Harrington threatens to let “Sue” have a little taste, to which Steve responds that their dog prefers cigarettes if she’s got them, and Billy can’t help but laugh.

As dinner winds down, though, and the silences grow longer, Billy feels the tension creep back in slowly and starts to search his mind for some kind of an out. When Mrs. Harrington turns a look on him like she’s about to start trying to fill the silence with painful small-talk again, Steve quickly saves him.

“Well, I should probably take Siouxsie out to stretch her legs for a bit if that’s alright. Billy, you wanna come with?”

And it’s funny, the way everything Steve says or suggests is met with universal approval. Billy remembers the Harringtons very differently. But a few minutes later, they are out on the quiet street, deliciously alone. 

“Thank god,” Billy mutters, casting a glance back at the large house. “I swear your mom would have suggested charades within the next half hour, given the chance, and then I’d have to have faked sudden blindness or something.”

Steve snorts, and nudges Billy with his shoulder as they walk.

“There’s still time for that,” he teases.

“ _Fucking hell,_ ” Billy groans.

It’s quiet, out on the wide streets of Loch Nora at this hour, just as peaceful as it ever was, and something about that sets Billy’s heart to aching. He glances around and takes Siouxsie’s leash from Steve, to link their fingers together.

“D’you think the boulder is still sitting out there?” he wonders, looking down the winding road like he can see into the dense forest that borders it despite the darkness.

Steve shrugs. “It’s a rock. They don’t just grow legs and walk away.” 

He smiles when Billy bumps his shoulder into him for that. “Bet there’s other kids that use it now, to meet and smoke weed or do other forbidden shit.” 

“Or just to talk,” Billy suggests, voice cracking a little. Fuck, but they had talked and talked, that last summer in Hawkins. He’d told Steve everything and then some. Every little secret but the big one: how head over heels in love he was with the boy with the floppy hair, even then. 

Steve peers over at him with his big, dark eyes, and gives Billy’s hand a squeeze.

“Yeah,” he says. “It was a good place for that, wasn’t it.”

The unspoken truth to that hurts Billy to think about. That, really, they’ve only become worse at talking to each other since their nights at the rock. The idea that after more than 10 years of living together they’ve never known each other as well as they did that one summer. Billy’s throat feels tight, and he finds himself looking away from the trees. Towards the houses he once thought must be worth a damn fortune but that he’s now seeing from the other side of things in every way.

“We should probably head back,” Steve says, quiet enough that the approaching forest swallows the echo of it.

“Back into the WASPs’ nest,” Billy grumbles, and lets the dog make him stop.

Steve chuckles at that. “I’d thought they’d make it worse, somehow. I don’t know. Rag on me for not having a ‘real’ career, not going to college, all of that old stuff.”

“They blame _me_ for that college thing,” Billy reminds him, still bitter over old arguments Steve used to tell him about after failed family reunions and unfestive holidays. 

“Maybe they’re over that now,” Steve suggests. He laughs at the doubtful look Billy shoots him. “It’s been so long. Maybe they figure it’s just water under the bridge.”

“They want something,” Billy says dully, kicking the ground before him. 

Steve no longer looks amused. “They’re just being nice. Not everyone has to have an ulterior motive.”

“Yeah, alright, Snow White.” Billy crouches to pet Siouxsie on the head for shitting on someone’s immaculately manicured lawn, and turns to head back to the mansion. “Just don’t come crying to me when some perfectly eligible young heiress shows up to brunch tomorrow and your parents want to know how you rate her rack. Or, y’know, _do_.”

“We’re having brunch with the Wheelers tomorrow, you know that,” Steve says lightly, ignoring Billy’s look of dread. “You can help save me if they try to betrothe me to little Holly or something.”

“Yeah, well, she’s probably just about legal now. _And_ she comes from a good family. You would know,” Billy points out bitterly.

He’s met with stone silence from Steve’s end, until they reach the Harringtons’ driveway. 

“You could try to be a bit less of an asshole,” Steve says tonelessly as he unclips the dog's leash. “It’s just a couple of days, then we’re back to your fucking castle.”

Billy doesn’t have a response for that. Doesn’t even have full control of his limbs for a moment, so that Steve has to tug his end of the leash from his stiff fingers. He follows him into the house feeling hollow, and makes a beeline for the first-floor bedroom without a word. Itching for a fucking cigarette and a weekend-long nap.


	7. the bed

At first it doesn’t feel that odd. Steve is too annoyed with Billy still to wish for his company. He gets ready for bed without thinking about it. Brushes his teeth, splashes some water on his face, fills a bowl with water for Siouxsie from the bathroom tap. He is genuinely exhausted from the long car ride, so he expects to drop off like a stone the moment his head hits the pillow.

It turns out to be not quite so easy. The room is too dark, too quiet, his comforter too thick. He tries lying on his side and feels like he is suffocating. Rolls over onto his back and nearly falls down the other side.

 _This is ridiculous_ , Steve thinks. He’s slept alone in this room before. It should be easy.

But during the times he was home for some holiday or other, Billy was never just a couple of feet away, his mind supplies readily.

 _He also wasn’t behaving like a class A asshole_ , Steve thinks stubbornly. Or maybe he was, and it just never got this obvious. Or he just never seemed to _mind_.

The dog lets out a frustrated huff from the floor. _You and me both, sweetie_ , Steve thinks and lets his hand drop down the side of the bed to pet her soft fur.

In the half-darkness, illuminated by the soft glow from the swimming pool, he notices a few light scratches on the bed frame. He runs his fingers over the strange indentations in the dark wood.

Billy put those there, Steve suddenly remembers with a smile. _About time you got some notches on your bedpost_ , Billy had said, and laughed. One mark carved in with the jagged, empty metal eraser end of his pencil for every trig problem he solved right on the first go.

There aren’t that many there. Go figure.

\--- \\\\\\\ ---

“You gotta be kidding me.”

Steve stares at the familiar figure smirking at him from the other side of the front door.

“Hello, Harrington. Someone call for a math tutor?”

“ _Mom??_ ” Steve hollers back into the house, because there’s no way. She had _mentioned_ it at dinner the other night, but _come on_ … Steve realizes he’s wearing nothing but a ratty pair of sweatpants and an old swim team t-shirt and grimaces again, glancing back at the asshole on his doorstep. “You’re _not_ my tutor,” he says, to clarify.

Billy’s grin at that is wide and involves more tongue than should be allowed.

“Sorry, pretty boy, ‘fraid I am. So, you gonna let me in, or is there another door in this place for the hired help?”

“Shut up. This has to be a mistake,” Steve mutters, but his mother isn’t even answering. Did she go out and leave him alone with this? Or is it Hargrove’s idea of a joke?

“Wait there. Don’t touch anything.”

He leaves Billy Hargrove standing outside and ducks into the kitchen. “Mom?”

There’s a note, and an envelope lying on the kitchen counter. _Be back for dinner, tutoring money for the month in advance, be good! xoxo_

“Fucking hell.”

And of course when he turns around, Billy’s followed him into the kitchen. Is picking up every shiny thing within reach and inspecting it like he’s never seen a fucking napkin holder in his life.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, after I’m done with you, you’ll graduate with flying colors,” he says smugly.

Steve can feel his cheeks turn red.

“Don’t need your help to graduate,” he lies. Like he hasn’t just barely saved his science grades with Dustin’s help. Like his dad wasn’t threatening the night before not to bother spending money on a cap and gown, since he isn’t going to walk with the others at this rate.

“So, where do you wanna set up shop?” Billy asks decisively, and Steve nods him towards the stairs with a sigh.

“All my school stuff’s up in my bedroom,” he says, and leads the way.


	8. the morning

By the time Siouxsie’s complaints wake Steve in the early morning light, it’s already clear he’s going to be tired for the rest of the day. He goes straight for the coffee maker as soon as he gets downstairs, and lets the dog do her business in the backyard while he waits for the pot to brew. 

The pool is uncovered and sparkling clean, something Steve doesn’t think he’s seen since he moved away. Probably just a time of year thing, he tells himself, since he’s mostly come back in the winter months before. He has to pull the dog back from the edge a couple times, but the cool blue of it calls to him as much as it seems to call to her, and once his coffee brews he decides to sit on the edge and dangle his feet into it.

 _Billy used to love this pool._

The thought makes him smile, and he tries to remember whether he packed any swimwear for them. Maybe Billy can be persuaded to take a dip with him later? Or even now? Surely they still have time before brunch at the country club. 

Siouxsie perks up at the sound of movement in the house and Steve cranes his neck to see if the smell of coffee lured Billy out of bed or if it’s just his parents. 

He has his answer when Billy steps out the sliding glass door with a mug in hand, looking like he barely slept at all. Siouxsie scampers over to whine at his feet and Steve feels a wave of protectiveness wash over him that makes him want to do about the same.

“She wanted to come see you earlier, but I didn’t want to wake you if you were…” he says, and Billy shakes his head.

“It’s alright,” he says, and reaches down to give the dog some scritches. Steve isn’t sure _what_ he’s saying is alright, but he’s pretty sure whatever he’s talking about _isn’t._

“Did you sleep okay?” he asks.

“Like a stone.” And that’s so blatant a lie Steve almost laughs out loud. He pushes himself up to a standing position, reaches for Billy, trusts in touch to make it better where words don’t work, but Billy shies away from him. Actually almost flinches. 

“Your parents,” Billy says in a low voice. Steve knows _why_ he did it, but, fuck. He tries to swallow the hurt feeling down. 

“Wanna go for a swim before we get ready for the stuffy shirts at the country club?”

He meant it to sound a little flirty, but Billy just frowns. 

“Listen, about that. I was thinking. You don’t really want me there to schmooze up the Wheelers, do you?”

Steve frowns, unsure what to say to that, but Billy continues on without encouragement.

“I’d just be a drag and I don’t wanna go just to embarrass you, and… Max is in town for the wedding already anyway, so maybe it’s better if I just visit with her a bit while you go.”

He still hasn’t gotten close enough for Steve to reach out and touch, and he has his free hand buried in Siouxsie's fur like Steve only ever sees when he’s feeling really down.

“I don’t have to go,” he blurts out, trying to think of a way to turn this around. “I could stay and we could have a lazy day by the pool. You could ask Max to come over here. We’ll take it easy. What do you say?” 

That at least gets Billy to glance over at him. He seems to consider the idea for a moment, but in the end he shakes his head.

“No, you can’t flake on the bride, Stevie, come on,” he says. And apparently Steve gives him a look at that that tips Billy off to how concerned he’s making him, because he finally reaches out and touches Steve’s shoulder for a long second as he stands back up. “I’m gonna go catch a shower.”

Steve watches him until he vanishes inside, hoping till the last moment that he’s going to come back. 

When he doesn’t, Steve sighs and pulls his t-shirt over his head in a swift movement. He jumps into the pool still in his boxers, letting cool water crash over him.


	9. the visit

It’s not until Steve pulls to a stop in the valet loop at the country club and gives Billy’s hand a squeeze, handing him the keys to the car as they both get out, that Billy realizes he actually _could_ go see Max for a bit. What else is he going to do while Steve is off having mimosas with Karen Wheeler for the next couple of hours? It’s not like there’s much else to do in this town. He toys with the idea of going back to the Harringtons, and dismisses it immediately. Not without Steve as a buffer between them all.

Yeah, he could do with a bit of Max, he decides. So he starts heading towards the old place, directions coming back to him almost like he’s on auto-pilot. Back then, it took forever until he got used to this town enough to find his way around. Now, somehow, all the years in between haven’t been enough to wipe the map of it from his brain.

But when he turns into Cherry Road, everything seems to slow down. It feels surreal being back here, after all this time. And everything fucking stayed the same. Same shit road, same shitty houses. He almost passes by the house completely when he gets there, he’s in such a haze of aching memories. But then he slows instinctively, and it feels unfair that after not seeing the place for so many years it’d strike him so hard, but it does.

Billy kills the engine and sits in silence for a long moment, just staring at the two cars in the carport, neither of them his dad’s old pickup despite the fact that nothing else seems to have changed. When his hand pushes open the door even the air smells the same in a way that makes him feel suddenly lost.

Billy sighs hard and turns away, leaning on the warm roof of the car, stalling. He can’t quite shake the urge to put as much distance between him and this old house as he can, though he knows how unfounded it is now.

“Stupid,” he mutters to himself out loud, as if to chide the uncomfortable feeling away. But that doesn’t make him any less shaky with the house right there in front of him. “Dumbass,” he mutters. “Do you wanna see her or not?”

But the weak fool inside him insists that seeing Max tomorrow at the wedding will be soon enough. That surely it’s not worth the effort to brave this stupid fucking house right now.

He’s just pulling the door open to get back in the Corvette and get the hell out of dodge when a hand grabs his shoulder and he’s being pulled around into two pale arms.

“ _Billy._ ”

He shouldn’t be that surprised at Max spotting him and coming out of the house, but his heart clenches a little anyway and a second later he’s wrapping his arms around her too. She laughs a little and pulls back to look him over.

“Hey, how you been?” she asks, frowning, and Billy doesn’t know what to say to that right now, so he just shakes his head.

“It’s good to see you,” he answers. “How’s your mom?”

“She’s good. She’s fine.” She shrugs, glancing back at the house. “She’s inside if you wanna…” but Billy cuts her off before she can finish her sentence.

“Nah. Let’s... go get lunch somewhere,” he suggests instead. “I’m starving.”

Max nods. “Long as it’s somewhere _I_ can get _breakfast_. Let me go change and I’ll be right out.”

They decide on Benny’s without much discussion, still there after all these years, and grab a booth in the corner, sitting across from each other. Max eyes him up while she stirs a single packet of sugar into her coffee.

“You should’ve called,” she says. “Didn’t have to go all the way out there, I mean. I could’ve met you somewhere…”

Billy shrugs and pulls the sugars over to his side of the table.

“It’s fine,” he says as lightly as he can manage it, like he doesn’t give a shit. Max doesn’t look like she believes him, but at least she lets him change the subject to what they’re going to eat.

After they order though, the silence stretches. It’s funny, the way he can talk to Max over the phone without a problem, and the couple times she’s visited them in New York, they got along great. But here, now, it feels like they’re strangers again. _It’s this town_ , he thinks bitterly. Even with his dad dead and buried over two years ago, he can’t help feeling like everything here is still a little bit hostile. Ready to turn him in.

“Thought you’d be at that brunch with Steve,” Max finally breaks the silence, and Billy can’t help but pull a face.

“Rubbing elbows with the Wheelers all morning? No thanks.”

“And Steve,” Max points out. Like, just because they’re a couple they should wanna spend all their time together or something, and like… she wouldn’t normally be wrong, but...

Billy grunts noncommittally and smiles at the waitress when she brings their food a second later. A burger and fries for him, toast and a veggie omelette for Max. If anything can make him feel better it’ll be this.

Max doesn’t let him have it for long, though, before she’s smirking over at where he’s just taken a massive bite and raising an eyebrow.

“What happened to that diet you were bragging about over the phone? ‘Best I’ve ever felt, Max.’ Think those were your exact words,” she teases.

Billy tries to glare while chewing with some difficulty.

“I fucking lied, you happy?” he grumbles when as soon as he has the space to, swallowing thickly. “When have you ever heard of somebody actually _enjoying_ life on rabbit food?”

Max snorts and takes a sip of coffee.

“Wow, is this why you missed out on brunch?” she asks mildly, eyebrows raised. “You’re in a _mood_? Good call, man, deciding not to piss on their parade. If you’re gonna throw a tantrum, better do it here, not on the floor of a country club.”

“I’m not in a _mood_ ,” he says testily. “I don’t have _tantrums_. I’m an adult, for fuck’s sake. I work hard, I’m under a lot of pressure. I don’t always feel like pretending I’m Mr. Sunshine, if you can believe that.”

“Don’t worry.” Max snorts. “Nobody who knows you expects Mr. Sunshine. You’ve gotta be _really_ bitchy for me to call you out on it, though, and right now...” she inclines her head meaningfully and takes a bite of omelette.

He makes an angry sound and tears into the burger some more. Ignores her watching him, ignores the way her eyes seem to know way too much.

For a while it feels like it’s working, but finally the silence gets to him. Feels too dangerous. So he answers with an easy half-truth.

“You know I hate this backwater,” he offers. “And being here with Steve after all this time, when we can’t…”

Max wrinkles her nose and puts a hand up like she thinks he’s about to fucking tell her the details of their sex-life and he almost laughs.

“Can’t fucking _hold hands_ , or look at each other too long, or _anything_ , just have to second-guess everything we’d normally do... I just want to be able to be normal with him in public, I mean, without getting into a fucking brawl.”

Billy takes a breath. He hadn’t meant to get even that close to the truth, but now his heart is rabbiting in his chest at the thoughts in his head. Him or Steve or both of them being outed in a place like this. How Steve’s darling town could turn on them so quick.

Across the table, Max looks troubled, at least, and chews on her lip in silence for a moment while he calms himself down. For a moment, Billy thinks he’s put that topic to bed, at least. But she presses onward.

“Hey, it’s just a weekend, right? You go back home at the end of it and you can fuckin’ stare into each others’ eyes much as you want,” she says confidently.

He shrugs. Looks down at his burger, suddenly not hungry at all.

“He’s gonna leave me, Max,” he blurts out. Because he’s got himself this worked up now, might as well put all the cards on the table.

“ _Steve?_ ” She stares at him blankly. “You gotta be kidding me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people more into each other than you two.”

Billy’s throat feels tight as he shakes his head.

“I fucked it up, though,” he barely whispers. “He’s miserable. He’s fucking miserable with me all the time and I don’t know when it happened but I’m not an idiot, Max, I know something’s wrong. I—”

Tears prick at Billy’s eyes, and he turns and blinks them away quickly, furious with himself.

Max surprises him by actually taking his hand.

“It’ll be okay,” she says, and though part of him wants to snap at her, ( _how does she know that, anyway? She can’t know that!_ ) it still feels nice. Stupid, but nice.

He quickly wipes the wetness from his eyes before their waitress gets close enough to see it.

“And this fucking place is making it all worse,” he growls, directing his anger at something deserving. “He loves it here. And his parents would take him back with open arms. King Steve, back in the fold, finally home again after he’s spent a couple years sowing his fucking wild oats…”

Max snorts. “Are you the fertile garden in this scenario? Or were you both sowing oats together?”

He tries to push her hand away with a scoff. “I’m fucking serious, Max,” he says, a little hurt.

“I know, I know. Sorry.” She looks down at her hand covering his. “But don’t you think you might be exaggerating, just a little?”

“Last night he called our place back in New York ‘your castle.’ Like it isn’t even his home at all, I just have him trapped there…” Billy has to take another steadying breath, but he doesn’t look away from Max’s sorry face this time.

All she can say to that one is, “Shit,” and Billy feels a kind of relief, knowing once and for all that he’s not just losing his mind. That there’s something seriously wrong between them.

“Have you tried talking to him?” she says. “Asking what’s wrong?”

Billy’s hopes are dashed against the varnished table. _Talking?_

“Really, Max? That’s your great advice?”

She scowls a little. “What am I thinking, _of course_ you don’t talk to each other, you’re _guys_.”

“Hey, it’s not that fucking easy.” Billy sits back. “Honestly, if he doesn’t want to stay, what difference is _talking_ about it gonna do?”

“Oh, christ,” Max sighs, sitting back too. “Seriously? Would you make a decision at work without talking to your client or reading the file, or whatever? Like, you need all the information to fix something like this, and there’s one place you can get it.”

Billy scowls and chugs some coffee just to put off answering that. Unfortunately, she takes his silence as an opportunity to keep going.

“You need to find out what he needs that he’s not getting, and give it to him, Billy. Whatever it is. ‘Cause you lucked the hell out with that one, and if you let him get away…” She’s smirking a little now, ‘cause they both know she’s only teasing. As much as she loves Steve, she does actually think they’re well-matched. She’s said it so many times before. But the joke doesn’t have the same ring to it now.

Billy clears his throat and sets his empty coffee mug back down on his plate.

“I gotta go,” he says, and tosses some cash down on the table. “Thanks for the chat, it was _real fun_.”

He can hear Max’s sighed, “ _Billy,_ ” from behind him as he goes, but he doesn’t stop until he’s at the car.

The car Steve didn’t want, but he’d forced him to take for his own ego. Billy’s vision is blurry with tears by the time he sits down in the driver’s seat.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters to himself. “Pull yourself together.”

The words turn sour in his mouth even before they’re out of it, because no matter how many years ago he left Hawkins, how many thousands of miles away he lives now, he can still hear his father say them, clear as day. Hear the exact cadence of his voice. The contempt in it. By the time they were said, Billy was usually crying then, too. Never could help that.

He starts the engine, makes it howl, puts the pedal down to the floor. The car jumps into action beautifully, purrs underneath him, like it’s begging for this kind of a drive.

There’s no thought to city speed limits, but at least Hawkins is tiny and he’s out of it faster than he can blink. Sees the trees and houses and fucking cows whip past him, just like he did, eons ago, when he’d make these kinds of drives in a beat-up old Camaro.

\--- \\\\\\\ ---

Billy’s hands shake on the wheel, spilling ash from his cigarette onto the floor as he keeps them at ten and two, willing himself not to give in to his reckless streak and just let the car take a tumble.

It’s not that he’s suicidal. Just that he’s so tired of the life he’s stuck living right now. He _wants_ to live so fucking badly. That’s the real fucking problem that he’s having.

Music pounds through his speakers, barely audible over the growl of the Camaro’s engine and the roar of warm night air past open windows, and Billy barely bothers blinking away the tears as he presses the pedal down further. No destination in mind, except _away_.

At least, that’s what he thinks until he finds himself outside of town, up in the woods north of Sattler’s Quarry. Billy takes the last turn more consciously then, up the overgrown dirt road, past the no trespassing sign. He parks, and walks the rest of the way to the broken bit of the chain-link fence.

He doesn’t expect to be anything but alone up here, didn’t call ahead and make plans or anything tonight, but when he spots a car further up the drive and the cherry of someone’s lit cigarette further on, something lightens inside of his chest.

“Hey, this is private property, you know,” he calls out.

“Oh yeah?” comes a voice he knows through the darkness. “And you’re, what? The night watchman?”

“That’s right. So give me a light before I bust your pretty ass.”

Steve scoffs, but hands over his silver zippo as soon as Billy has scrabbled up on top of the boulder, rather less gracefully than usual. Billy hopes Steve can’t tell that he’s moving a little stiffly, in the dark. Something about the quiet presence of Steve at his side makes Billy only want to talk about nice things.

“So what are you doing here?” he asks anyway. “Thought you had a thing tonight, with your parents?”

Steve huffs a quiet laugh that makes Billy’s stomach clench with yearning.

“Why do you think I’m looking for some fucking solitude, man?”

Billy nods understanding and keeps quiet for a while. Enjoys the way the smoke burns his lungs, the warmth of Steve’s body beside him on the cool rock.

It’s a small eternity before either of them speak again. Steve really doesn’t seem inclined to chat, and Billy is fine with just sitting there. He’s on his second cigarette, the chirping crickets have actually started to calm him down. That and the fact that he’s not alone, despite his best efforts. After a while, though, Steve sighs and speaks up.

“They found out I didn’t get into Tech,” he says.

And Billy has to take a moment to catch up with what Steve’s talking about. Billy had known about the rejection letter weeks ago. Been there when Steve opened it, even. They’d worked their fucking asses off to get his grades up, but still Billy hadn’t been too surprised, even if he’d been righteously pissed off for Steve’s sake.

He hadn’t realized, though, that Steve had still been hiding it from his folks. Billy leans back against the rock to look at Steve.

“Shit,” he huffs supportively.

Steve nods.

“And, you know, I kinda figured I’d get around to telling them when there was a good time.” Steve shakes his head and Billy can’t read his expression well in the dim light but he can feel the emotions coming from him like they’re thick in the night air. “Just, there never seemed to be a good time. Anyway, my mom found the letter in my room the other day. They ambushed me with it tonight. Dad said, and I quote, ‘it’s time you get some _real-life_ experience, son. Stop expecting to coast through on my dime.’”

Billy whistles softly. “What an asswipe,” he mutters.

That at least gets a huffed little half-laugh out of Steve.

“Yeah,” he breathes back, and they sit there in silence for another long moment before Steve breaks it again. “Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m staying here for,” he says quietly, almost like a confession. “Like, after the summer it’s not like there’s gonna be anything for me here anyway…”

In spite of himself, Billy’s heart beats a little faster. _He doesn’t mean me_ , he tells himself. _He can’t mean me._ But god, he wants it to be. It’s all Billy can do to nod and hum sympathetically, watching as Steve chucks a pebble out over the not-too-distant cliff of the quarry. When he leans back against the rock, Steve’s soft hand brushes over Billy’s briefly, and in a second he’s throwing caution to the wind.

“You could come to New York with me,” he says.

The words hang in the air, and Steve isn’t saying anything. At least he isn’t _laughing_ at the idea.

“I mean, you know. ‘Real-life experience?’ You can get that anywhere. Gotta be a helluva lot more of it in New York than here, anyway…”

He’s desperately trying not to back-pedal. Not to turn this into a joke, because, fuck. Asking Steve to go away with him? They’ve been doing so good together, Steve probably wouldn’t even flinch at calling them friends. But leaving this shithole of a town _together_ , making it an “us,” instead of a _“me”_? That feels like heavy shit. And owning up to that is scary as hell.

But after a while Steve nods slowly. “Yeah, maybe. Why not, right? Fuck it!”

Billy lets out a relieved laugh. “Yeah. Fuck it,” he says.

“New York City,” Steve says slowly, like he’s tasting the name. Billy can hear the smile in his voice. “With Billy Hargrove.” Billy’s heart beats triple-time. “We could drive out there together. Make a road trip out of it and everything.”

Now Billy is smiling too. “Yeah. We could, pretty boy.”

“You do know what that means, though, don’t ya?”

Steve sits up, and suddenly there’s enough moonlight for Billy to see him smirk.

“What?”

“At some point, you’re gonna have to finally let me drive that Camaro.”


	10. the party

The driving does actually calm him down. After a while it stops feeling odd to drive down these roads in a car that truly doesn’t feel like his own, and nostalgia for the old Camaro is turned into appreciation for Steve’s sweet new ride. She’s a fucking beauty.

And something about the drive feels like it’s clarified things in his mind over the past hour and a half. He’d nearly forgotten the power of a good drive to do that after so many years in New York, only traveling for work a couple times a year. But as he pulls back onto the Harringtons’ sleepy wooded street he feels like he’s seeing truly clearly for the first time in months.

Billy pulls into the driveway and walks straight up to the house, feeling charged with nervous electricity like he’s 17 again, at this same door to ask if ‘Harrington’ wants to hang out, go get drunk, shoot hoops and shoot the shit for a couple hours.

_We need to talk. We’ve needed to for a long time._

He pushes the front door open.

And stops dead in the entry-way. There’s music drifting in through the open terrace doors in the living room, people talking, the clink of glasses and the splash of pool water. For a moment, Billy wonders if he got the wrong house. Or maybe if Steve’s parents decided to throw an impromptu party.

Or maybe they mentioned it and he just hadn’t been listening?

He drifts towards the sound cautiously, but a familiar face comes in through the door before he can try for a subtle entrance.

“Billy, what the hell?” Even though her words are pissy, Max is grinning, holding what looks like a margarita in one hand. “What took you so long?”

“What’s going on?” He gestures vaguely to the commotion outdoors. “What are you even doing here?”

“Mike called El about a party at Steve’s, and she told me to come.” Max shrugs, like it’s the most logical thing in the world. “Come on, help me get some more ice. And stop sulking.”

“Billy!” Finally, Steve. He’s flushed, too, like he didn’t remember to put on any sunscreen. He looks fucking _happy_. “There you are!” And Billy can see him bouncing on the balls of his feet as if he’s about to lean in and plant one on him right then and there. At the last moment Billy manages to stop him, though, painfully aware of the entire party of people he doesn’t want to discuss his fucking sexuality with right now just outside the open door.

Max just casts a glance between them and holds her hands up, though.

“Alright, I’m going so you two can _hold hands_ or whatever.” And her unsubtle _told you so_ look at Billy as she slides the door closed behind her makes him wonder where the nearest alcohol is at this party.

Steve snorts a bit of a laugh and does as he’s told, grabbing for Billy’s hand and linking their fingers as he pulls him in for that quick kiss, apparently oblivious to Billy’s pounding heart.

“What’s she talking about?” Steve asks, glancing back in Max’s direction.

Billy shakes his head and ignores his instinct to pull his hand back when they’re in someone else’s house. When anyone could see. Because if Steve doesn’t care, then why should he? It’s only a little hand-holding. Billy holds tighter instead.

“Just Max being Max,” he grumbles, mostly over it. He’s got more important things on his mind now, with Steve standing so close to him. “Hey, can I talk to you?” he asks, and chances another kiss. _Get them in while you still can, dipshit_.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says, looking at him, maybe a little warily. “Just let me— I was gonna get some more drinks from the fridge, alright?”

Billy makes an impatient noise. “They can wait, can’t they?” But even as he sees Steve hesitating, searching his eyes, maybe trying to gauge how important this is, he knows it’s stupid to try and do this now. With everyone there, with Steve preoccupied.

“Sure, they can wait. Is everything okay?”

Billy shrugs. Grimaces, tries to smile. “Of course. Everything’s fine.”

Steve doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but he squeezes his hand. “Come help me carry some bottles?”

“Yeah, okay.” Billy shrugs, and leans over for one last kiss, just barely grazing the back of Steve’s warm, flushed neck.

It turns out what’s going on seems to be a brunch after-party, if such a thing exists. Names Billy remembers a bunch of kids having, attached to new, adult faces, some of which look older even than him and Steve now, which Billy allows himself to feel smug over.

And the fact that he helps Steve deliver more refreshments to the small crowd outside instantly endears him to them even if he remembers distinctly how long these kids had spent wary of him and then mad that he’d taken their Steve away with him, up to New York.

Steve flutters around the little party grinning and joking and looking so beautiful it could break your heart, but he doesn’t seem to mind that Billy isn’t engaging much, staying near the edge with a beer in hand and keeping Mike Wheeler from having any say in the music after his first attempt.

“Slow down, speed racer, we’ve still got the rest of this damn weekend to get through,” Billy teases a little when Steve comes over only to swipe the beer from his hand and finish it off with a flourish, but Steve just smirks and licks his shiny lips.

“I’m fine, baby, you know I’ve got stamina,” he says, voice going so obviously flirtatious that Billy feels his own cheeks heat slightly, worrying a little that people can hear him. Steve apparently has no such qualms, because he leans in close, entirely too close for this to pass as a casual conversation between friends. His bare arm is touching Billy’s, ever so briefly, ever so lightly. It makes Billy’s breath catch, and yet he can’t bring himself to move away.

“Hey, didn’t you wanna talk with me about something?” Steve remembers, bumping his hip against Billy’s. “You wanna be alone? We could go upstairs for a bit, don’t think these guys would notice…”

Billy frowns and shakes his head. Useless to talk to Steve now, when he’s easily tipsy if not actually drunk. Not the right time.

But maybe Steve meant something completely different. Because he takes his sunglasses off a second later to waggle his eyebrows at Billy. “Big house… no parents…”

Billy can’t help but snort a bit of a laugh at that, even as he glances nervously at the nearest group of grown-up kids.

“Man, is this what it’s like to be hit on by Hawkins’ very own King Steve?” he teases lightly, offering Steve a steadying arm when he trips a little on his own feet.

Steve overcorrects and ends up leaning hard on Billy for a second, smirking up at him.

“You know it, beautiful,” he purrs, and okay, this is sweet and all, but Billy doesn’t want this to turn into the horror show it will turn into if Steve keeps behaving like this in the middle of his own party.

Thinking fast, Billy tugs Steve around the side of the pool house, and pushes on the door on the off chance it’s unlocked. It is.

“Mm, I never fucked anyone in here.” Steve grins, as Billy hastily shoves him inside the dusty, too-warm room. Billy just grunts back, and lets himself be vaguely pinned against the wall as Steve leans closer.

“Have you ever fucked someone with an audience?” he just manages to breathe out before Steve’s lips brush over his neck, vague and lazy.

Steve hums at that, seeming to like the idea, which Billy snorts at but files away for potential use before pulling Steve off of him just a little, to meet his eyes.

“Baby, chill. Jesus. What I mean is, are you planning on outing us to everyone we know here tonight, or are you gonna get a hold on yourself and stop acting like you wanna jump my bones?”

“Mm but I _do_ wanna jump your bones,” Steve hums, resisting Billy’s hold by simply giving into it and trailing hands down over his chest and face. “Seems like you never want to do it anymore though. Not with me, anyway.”

And Steve’s sulking face is easily enough to break Billy’s hold on him in half a second after that.

“Hey,” he says softly. Touches Steve’s face. “What’s that supposed to mean? Just because I don’t think it’s the best idea to come out to half of Hawkins by sucking you off at a pool party…”

Steve huffs, but closes his eyes. “Yeah, you know that’s not, we’re not—” He grasps for words for a few seconds, then just shakes his head in frustration. “I can’t even remember the last time we did something like this, and you act like I’m crazy—”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.” Billy does his best to stay calm, but it’s hard work. “I’m just saying this isn’t the place, we talked about this, baby…”

“— like I’m crazy just for wanting to be close to you. What even is that? I just wanna be with my boyfriend.” Steve leans back, looks at him, hurt. And Billy feels like the biggest asshole alive.

“That’s not the point, Stevie,” he tries to save this with logic. “You want me to go out there and make out with you in front of all those kids? Is that what you want?”

Steve just stares at him, those big dark eyes, almost looking sober now. After a long pause, he shakes his head. Billy lets out the breath he was holding, and takes Steve’s hand. “C’mon, let’s freshen you up a bit.”

Steve’s fingers link with his and he comes willingly enough towards the little shower area. Allows him to remove his shirt, and even fumbles with his own belt a bit, trying to help.

“It’s okay. I’ve got it,” Billy tells him, pulling his hands out of the way, and Steve hums, letting his hands move instead to Billy’s shirt.

Billy flinches and finishes undoing Steve’s pants, naturally removing Steve’s hands from his buttons when he leans down to help him out of the rest of it.

Steve only seems to realize around the time Billy’s leaning in to test the water that Billy isn’t joining him, and responds by wrapping his arms around him from behind softly, burying his face in Billy’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you come in with me, baby,” he mumbles through the fabric of Billy’s shirt. “No kids in here with us.”

Billy’s pulse quickens and shakes his head, bringing Steve around to his front, into the stream.

“Can’t look like we both showered, Stevie,” he says mechanically. “Just need to sober you up a little.”

Steve sulks at that, but allows Billy to manhandle him, standing there limp and less than helpful, dick just a little hard between his hairy thighs. Just looking at it makes Billy feel guilty.

“Are you fucking someone else?” Steve blurts out all of a sudden, and it gives Billy such a start, he actually drops the bottle of body wash he was just opening. It thumps dully against the wet tile, making him wince.

“What?” he asks, staring at Steve, eyes burning. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You never want to have sex with me anymore, so… do you have someone? New?”

Billy’s heart sinks.

He’s known things were bad for a while, and the whole sex thing has undeniably been a part of it, but for Steve to think he’s _cheating?_

“No!” he breathes, stepping closer to the spray to stare into Steve’s eyes. “No. Baby, I fucking meant it when I said you’re it for me, okay? I’d never…” Completely disregarding the water now, Billy steps half into the shower and kisses him long and hard.

When he comes away, Steve looks a little dazed, but steadier on his feet. His eyes, as he keeps them fixed on Billy, are starting to clear up a little.

“I’m so fucking in love with you, Stevie. Couldn’t stop it if I tried,” Billy promises, petting Steve’s face with a damp hand, still standing close.

“Yeah, you just don’t find me hot anymore,” Steve mutters, apparently not willing to be that easily appeased. But he leans into the touch, slips a wet arm around Billy’s waist to hold him close. Leans his forehead against Billy’s, and Billy closes his eyes for a second.

“Of course I do,” he protests weakly. “It’s not that. I just…”

And Steve waits patiently, but the words just don’t want to obey him. He shies away when Steve reaches for him, fingers fumbling towards his fly.

“Don’t.”

Steve pulls back, frozen for a moment, then huffs and turns back toward the shower.

“Why don’t you just leave, Bill,” he sighs, running hands over his face under the cool spray. “I can shower on my own just fine.”

Billy wants to say something. Stay and help. Apologize. But he knows there’s nothing he can do about it right now. There’s people over, just outside, and Steve is too drunk even as he’s sobering up to talk through all of this right now. So he nods, even though Steve can’t see him, and turns to head back to Steve’s party alone.

\--- \\\\\\\ ---

He doesn’t think about it much, the first time. Everyone says thinking makes it worse, and that’s certainly true, as far as he can tell. So when one night Steve’s mouth fails to make him hard, only manages to give him a disappointing semi, Billy writes it off as having had too much to drink that night. They’ve been celebrating the fact that he finally got that Lassiter deal on the road. He pulls Steve up to him after a while of fruitless effort, and gets him off easily with well-practiced touches, kisses, laughter. They don’t talk about it, after. This kind of thing can happen to anyone. Everyone knows that.

The next time it happens, he isn’t drunk.

Steve is a bit, though, just back from a night out with some friends Billy couldn’t make it to because he was swamped with work, seems he’s always swamped with work these days. But now Steve is in his lap out on the couch, lavishing his neck and his jaw and his ears with kisses, the kind that normally have Billy hard in an instant. Whispering about how much he wants to ride Billy tonight.

And Billy feels frozen. Stuck. Like he can’t connect his body to how much his mind’s on board.

Steve ruts against him for a while before it becomes clear Billy can’t provide what he wants from him. And Billy offers fingers, lips, tongue, but Steve just shrugs and goes to take a shower. Billy can hear him getting off from the next room, and the sound of it sits low in Billy’s stomach for the rest of the night, sour and miserable.

It’s a couple days before he has the time or the will to try again, but this time Billy does it alone.

Steve sleeps deep and heavy by his side, breathing slow and steady, when Billy reaches under the sheets and gets to work. Practiced movements that he knows after years of this have always done the trick to get him ready for whatever he and Steve want to do.

By the time he gives up on it entirely, he’s gone down from the maybe half-hard he was able to get to, and his dick is just sort of sore from trying to do this without lube.

The sourness in his gut settles deeper, and Billy takes his hand out of his briefs and rolls over, defeated.


	11. the way we make things work revisited

Steve rubs his hand over his face under the shower’s spray and breathes hard, clearing water and snot and tears from his face tiredly. Cooling off. Coming down. Wondering if Jonathan is still the master of knowing where to get decent weed anywhere.

He steps out of the shower, towels off, and stares at himself in the dusty full-length mirror from his reddened eyes to how extra pale he looks in the dim light. Washed out by the dark hair on his chest, legs, arms, between his legs. Tries to nitpick what’s different from when he and Billy first moved from Hawkins in ‘85 until he starts to wonder if the problem is how _little_ he’s changed. How he could probably still pass for 21, if he tried.

Finally he shakes his head and turns to dress. Billy’s at least right about one thing, and that’s that they’re hardly through a quarter of this fucking weekend. He pulls his rumpled clothes back on and does what he can with his half-damp hair. Blinks lingering tears away and straightens.

Thankfully, by the time he returns to the pool it seems like people are leaving. The sun is setting now, and the bachelor party must start in like an hour. 

Steve says goodbyes to Mike and Holly Wheeler and Holly’s football player boyfriend, and feels entirely too seen, as always, by El’s parting look.

After everybody’s gone, Steve busies himself with clearing up a bit, but Billy is nowhere to be seen. Maybe taking a shower. _Can’t look like we both showered_ , Steve reminds himself bitterly. But it’s not until he whistles for Suzie and can’t find her anywhere that he notices the leash is gone, too. So Billy actually went and _left_. For fuck’s sake. The minutes tick by as he goes upstairs to change, and still Billy isn’t back. At least he didn’t take the car. Steve sits on the couch, twiddling the keys, when finally the door opens and Billy walks back in, calm as anything.

“Hey,” he says, and he’s trying not to sound like a nagging housewife, but it’s hard. “So are you planning on bailing on me for the bachelor party too now, or what?” 

Billy just takes Siouxsie’s leash off carefully, not looking over. 

“No, I’m coming,” he answers. “Just give me a second to change.” And then he’s headed off to his room. 

Steve tries not to get worked up about it. Or about the fact that when he calls, the dog merely glances up at him from her spot on the rug, apparently too tired out from her walk to let him pet her. 

Billy’s out a second later, buttoning his shirt slow enough that Steve gets a flash of his subtly fuzzy chest before it’s mostly covered. And the fact that even that glance has the ability to make Steve’s mouth water even when he’s _so_ not in the mood just makes him feel moodier. So Steve trudges out ahead of Billy and takes the wheel without offering it, driving them out to the restaurant without a word. 

The back porch is reserved for their party and seems to be decorated especially for it, probably by Will. The music, too, seems much more up Jonathan’s alley than what had been playing inside. A handful of people are already there when they step out into the porch area, but Jonathan makes a beeline for them as soon as he spots them.

Billy’s gone before he can get there, though, headed for the bar. Steve does his best not to frown after him, to genuinely congratulate his friend, but Jonathan reads him too fast. 

“He okay?” he asks, glancing over towards where Billy’s settled himself with a drink. What looks like straight whiskey.

Steve makes a helpless noise and shrugs.

“How are _you_?” he asks back. “Excited for the big day?” And from there it’s not hard to get Jonathan talking about the myth of traditional marriage, the inherent sexism of western wedding practices, and whatever else he and Nancy have apparently decided they don’t actually care about that much after all, now that they’re getting older.

Steve smiles and nods and hums until enough people have joined in the conversation that he can slip away. Not sure why, but feeling somehow put out by someone like Jonathan who _can_ get married, telling him all of the reasons marriage is so overrated when — while they’ve never discussed it really — Steve knows _he’d_ give anything to have a stupid bullshit wedding with the one person he’s ever been with who he _can’t_ marry. 

When he glances over at Billy he sees him flagging down a waiter, gesturing at his empty glass. They haven’t even ordered food yet. _Guess I’m driving tonight_ , he thinks bitterly. 

He slowly walks over, ordering a coke at the bar first, before sitting down next to Billy on one of the stools. “Hey. Speed racer, rest of the weekend, something? I wasn’t listening earlier, but I think it involved slowing down,” he says. 

Billy just gives him a look and takes another sip of his drink. “How’s the blushing groom?” he asks, and anyone who doesn’t know him well might think he’s politely interested. Steve does know him, though. 

“You’d know if you had stayed for five seconds to talk to him.” He shrugs, and Billy snorts. 

“No, thanks.” 

The question of why the fuck Billy even bothered to come is on the tip of Steve’s tongue, really wants to get out, but before he can utter another word, he’s bear-tackled from behind. 

“Steve, hey!”

He turns his head to the side and is met with a mass of curly hair so instantly recognizable he cracks a grin before he can even see Dustin’s smiling face.

“Hey, man, how are you!”

Dustin laughs and sits next to him.

“Well, the twins are about to turn two, so mostly beat-up and tired, how about you?”

Steve smiles and is at a loss for words for just a second as he tries to picture Dustin with kids _that big_ , before he recovers. “Great. I’m great, really. Really great. Hey Billy, look who’s here!”

But when he turns to Billy, he realizes Billy’s moved off, must have done so the second Dustin arrived. He feels his mood dip again, watching Billy slip through the party to go sit in a dark corner.

“Dammit.” 

“Oh, _he_ ’s here too?” 

Dustin’s face never managed to conceal any of his emotions, so watching him try and keep a neutral expression now is almost comical. 

“Big city’s not missing him too much? Wall Street hasn’t gone up in flames the moment he left?” 

“Shut up,” Steve gives back, but he has to smile. “Yeah, he’s here.” 

“Staying with Max? Nah, she’d probably have scratched his eyes out by now…” 

“Will you stop?” Steve admonishes mildly. “He’s not usually like this. Being back in Hawkins gets to him.” 

“Shouldn’t have come back, then,” Dustin just says sourly.

“You’re not still mad at him for me wanting to move to New York, are you?” Steve teases, and Dustin sputters indignantly but before he can respond Will Byers is stepping up to the bar behind him.

“He totally is.” He smirks, gesturing to the bartender for a refill, and the two of them laugh as Dustin’s reduced to rolling his eyes, throwing his hands up helplessly.

“Fine, I’m gonna go find some friends that won’t abuse me,” he says, half laughing with them at this point, and gives them each a pat on the back. “Don’t you two get too crazy.”

Will snorts a laugh as Dustin departs.

“He thinks he’s everybody’s dad now that he’s the first of us with kids.” He shrugs, and Steve laughs too.

They both flinch a bit when Jonathan starts knocking a fork against his beer bottle to get everybody’s attention.

“Hey guys, uh, thanks for coming to my bachelor party, I guess,” he says with a self-conscious smile.

“Strip!” one of his friends Steve doesn’t know shouts from the back, and Jonathan cracks up.

“Anyway, have a good time, uh, just don’t get too drunk, ‘cause I’m getting married in like 13 hours!”

Everyone cheers, and Steve clinks Will’s bottle of cider with his own depressingly alcohol-free glass. 

Thankfully, there’s food next. Steve slips away to the men’s room to wash his hands, only to find all the good seats are taken when he returns. He ends up with a bunch of Jonathan’s friends he barely knows by sight, and who don’t seem to know each other, either. When the conversation turns to what everyone’s been doing since college, which colleges everyone went to, and where they work now, he tries his best just working quietly on decimating his steak. 

“So, Steve, right? How do you know Jon?”

Steve, in the middle of a bite, mutters, “Highschool,” and then gestures to his plate. “Man, these steaks are great, huh?”

He jealously glances over to Billy, who’s had all the luck, getting to sit next to Will and the other guys. He hardly seems to be eating anything, though. Just looks like he’s letting the conversation wash over him with a stony face. Frowning, Steve doesn’t realize his right-hand neighbor asked him a question until everyone is looking at him expectantly. 

“I live in New York,” he ventures, hoping that’s in the general ballpark of what they were talking about. 

“And what do you do there?”

“Walk my dog, try not to get run over. You know, the usual.”

Everyone laughs politely, and thankfully the conversation moves on, but Steve could swear he sees two of the guys lean their heads together and the words “trust fund” muttered between them. He flushes slightly, wishing he could retort with something cutting. But really, what could he say? _I don’t even have a trust fund, actually, I live off of my very successful boyfriend and my part-time work at a fucking hair salon? Trying not to get run over in New York is a full-time job, thank you?_

Steve groans internally and pushes the last bite of steak around on his plate a bit, suddenly not hungry.

He stands and excuses himself from the table without even thinking really where he’s going to. He stops by the bar for a second, but the bartender is busy and it’s not like Steve can drink anything worth drinking anyway, so he passes by it and out the side gate. Not far enough to escape the chatter, but at least far enough to fucking hide.

His respite is short-lived though. Steve has only just settled against the warm brick wall of the restaurant and is taking his first deep breath of the cool night air when the gate opens again and somebody steps out after him.

He has a pretty good guess who it is, but the moment he hears Billy’s voice behind him, he feels both a little better and a little worse. 

“Isn’t this party the greatest?” Billy says, every word dripping with sarcasm. “Aren’t you glad we came all the way down here for this?”

Steve scoffs slightly, shakes his head. “Do you have a smoke? I could really do with a cigarette right now.”

“We quit five years ago, pretty boy,” Billy reminds him, walking closer. He leans against the wall too, close to Steve. Looks in the same direction as Steve. Only there’s nothing at all to see there, just an overgrown yard and some trees, and Steve can feel Billy frowning. 

“D’you remember in ‘89, when you were working two jobs and I was months away from getting my degree and I was so up to my balls in coursework you practically had to force me to take breaks to eat and sleep and just get out of the ‘partment for a little while?”

His words are a little slow, not quite slurred yet but on their way there, but his voice is soft and warm even if Steve’s totally lost as to what he’s getting at with this. 

“Yeah, sure,” he frowns, and Billy continues.

“How about in Sophomore year, when I got cocky and tried to take too many classes, so you ended up doing all the assignments for that art class after the fourth week, and the professor actually gave me that dorky little ‘most improved’ pin at the end of the semester ‘cause you did such a good job?”

Steve smiles a little, remembering. He wonders where that portfolio’s gotten to. Hums acknowledgement and Billy’s fingers reach over to slip in between his own.

“There were so many times I would’ve fallen behind or dropped out, had to move back to this shithole if you hadn’t been there to keep me going, baby,” he breathes, and Steve squeezes his hand, glancing over at his boyfriend’s blue-rimmed wide pupils in the dark. “And you did it all while you were figuring your own shit out, learning how to be the best hair stylist I ever did see.” 

“So you were listening in on us, huh?” he mutters, his voice feeling a little wobbly. 

“Didn’t have to,” Billy says. “Imagining what riveting conversation the assholes at your table would come up with wasn’t that hard.”

It’s amazing how he can still use such big words when he’s clearly on the way to being genuinely drunk. 

“And then I saw you run out, and...”

“Didn’t run out,” Steve protests weakly. “Just felt like some fresh air.”

“Our tables are in an open patio, baby.”

When Steve looks at him again, Billy is still looking at him, like he never looked away. “Doesn’t matter. You looked like maybe you could use a reminder of how fucking cool and important you are, and I…”

Billy glances down at the hand that’s not holding Steve’s and fiddles with the ring on his middle finger, his voice getting softer, a little rougher as he looks away. 

“I know I’m pretty fucking shit at being there for you like I should these days,” he says, “but I thought maybe I could help out with that.”

“Yeah. Well.” Steve wipes a bit of wet from his eyes with his free hand. “Love you too, asshole.” 

He can see a quick flash of smile from Billy, and wants to kiss him so badly. “You think you could come back in there with me and act a little less like you hate this party and all it stands for?” 

Billy’s lip curls into a sulk. “Fiiiiiine,” he says with a sigh. “For you, I’ll attempt the impossible, pretty boy.”

He lifts Steve’s hand to his lips and plants a wet and sticky kiss to his fingers. “Ew,” Steve laughs, pulling back his hand, and hip-checks him. “C’mon, let’s go back in then. Show them your sweet side.” 

“Hey, don’t say that kind of shit out loud,” Billy grumbles, staying put and slipping his hands down to Steve’s hips to keep him in place too. “You’ll ruin my reputation. I plan on giving Henderson an ulcer by the time he’s 30.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re bad. Are you gonna move or not, party boy?” 

“Not,” Billy says. A little of the sullen goes out of him as he turns to face Steve, hands slipping closer around his waist. “Nobody here to see us.” 

“Whole party twenty feet away,” Steve reminds him, but, fuck, he wants this. And even if he’s supposed to be the sober one tonight, the careful one, he can’t fight it when Billy is right there. Nobody human could resist that, and Steve, he’s definitely just human. So he leans in and kisses Billy.


	12. cheesy as can be

It’s been three weeks in New York now, and they’re starting to settle into a rhythm. Billy goes to class in the mornings, works every other week day, and spends most of the rest of the time either at the coffee shop where Steve has taken on work, or sprawled out somewhere in Steve’s apartment. Watching movies, getting high, sharing music, or increasingly, studying.

Early on Billy had determined his dorm to be the absolute worst place to get any work done, so he’d said, and since then his favorite place to do his copious homework is on Steve’s shitty Ikea couch. Steve’s roommate doesn’t seem to like it much, but he’s always out anyways, and he’s quiet when he is there, so it’s not like Steve cares much. He likes having someone he knows in New York with him.

Likes having someone sitting on the couch, within arm’s reach, while he bustles around the too-small kitchen trying to figure out how to make an actual meal with no counter space.

Tonight that’s working out to be grilled cheese sandwiches with as many vegetables in them as he can fit, and some leftover chicken from a couple nights before. Steve tastes everything before tossing it onto the slowly melting cheese. Some peppers he forgot he had lying around. Good, they go in. Some kind of lettuce his roommate bought. Gonna go bad soon anyway, he won’t mind.

Steve is just taking another bite of the chicken he has too much of for this anyway while he flips the unstable thing over, when he notices Billy staring.

“What?” he asks, his mouth full, feeling a bit like a deer in headlights under that gaze.

Billy shrugs a little, but doesn’t look away.

“You were humming,” he says.

And Steve feels his cheeks warm. He does that when he’s comfortable, happy, sometimes. But he hadn’t even noticed that it was happening just now.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, moving the last sandwich over onto a plate of others. “I’ll try to be quiet. You want two or three of these?”

He pulls a burnt bit off one of them and pops it into his mouth compulsively, turning off the hotplate.

“No, I didn’t mean…” Billy’s voice sounds rough for how soft it is, as he stands up to help Steve with the plates.

“You don’t have to stop…” Billy tries again, looking away. And now it looks like _he’s_ blushing, but it must just be the heat in the small room.

Steve puts a hand on Billy’s hip to press by past him. Give them some room. Grab a Pepsi. But before he can slip past he’s frozen in place as Billy’s hand stops him. Light on his hip, but steady.

Their lips press together before Steve can think, warm and soft and slightly-chapped. The touch sends a shock through Steve’s entire body and steals his breath, making him feel light-headed.

The kiss only lasts a second, but Steve can tell from Billy’s face once he pulls away that it left him just as shocked as it did Steve. Like the magnetism that pulled them together was bigger than themselves.

Yet even as Steve’s brain struggles to catch up and do something next, Billy’s already backing away, looking apologetic. Terrified. Sad.

“I— I’m sorry. I’ll go. _Shit_. I’m…”

He scrambles to stuff most of his study things into his book bag, nearly tripping over himself to get to the front door, all while Steve tries and fails to get his limbs to fucking move.

Billy is leaving so hastily now, it makes Steve feel all panicky, not knowing what to do. What he wants. How to get Billy to stay. Does he want Billy to stay? His mind feels dulled, like he got whacked over the head, can’t think straight. Can’t talk for shit, either, it seems.

“Billy, wait,” he manages to croak out, but Billy must not hear him, because he’s still trying to make a dash for the door.

Desperately, Steve lunges after him at the last minute, tackling him down to the couch. It’s awkward, and Billy’s books all fall to the floor, but this is more important than _books_.

“What the hell, Harrington,” Billy bites out, but he still doesn’t look angry, just shocked and red-faced and like he really doesn’t want to be here anymore.

“Yeah, exactly,” Steve stares at him, a little out of breath from that deadly rush. “What the hell, man? You gonna run out of here after _that_? What even was that?”

“Let me go, Steve, for fuck’s sake,” Billy says, sounding fucking _resigned_. That’s not like him at all.

“Not until you answer me. What...?” He tries to meet Billy’s eyes, but Billy is looking away on purpose. “I thought you… you like girls. You always liked girls, you… Veronica? I know you and Veronica had a thing.”

Billy huffs stubbornly, still looking anywhere but up at Steve, but Steve can see his eyes anyway. Can see where they’re getting tense and just a bit wet, like when he used to talk about his father.

“Yeah, we had a thing. We made out a couple times. She bragged about it and I let her. But I never…” Billy’s jaw shifts like he’s chewing on the words he doesn’t quite know how to say, and Steve waits, watching with bated breath, feeling shakier the longer Billy takes to speak.

“I’m not into girls, okay? At all. I…”

Steve waits for more words, but the pause stretches, and he takes a deep breath. Lets it out in a sigh. Fuck. It’s all a bit much to process, all at once. It feels like Steve’s whole grasp on the world as he knew it is loosened a little. He feels his thoughts all in a muddle, dogs chasing their own tails, feels Billy’s eyes on him, finally, now that he’s struggling to figure this one out.

“So you’re...” Steve starts, just to make sure, just to know his mind isn’t playing tricks on him. “Into _me?_ ”

Billy glances away again, breathing hard as he nods once. His eyelashes are wet now and Steve feels like such a piece of shit. _But you don’t even like me_ , he wants to point out, only that is such bullshit he almost laughs at himself. Of course Billy likes him. They hang out together all the time, spending more time together than with people he’s actually _dated_ , for fuck’s sake. And they are good together. They laugh at the same stuff, like the same things, and Billy makes fun of him for his music taste, but he never does it in a way that Steve minds.

But Billy wanting to kiss him… did that happen overnight? Or has he wanted to for a while? When they were in Hawkins, even? When they were in his room, on his bed? Staying up late sharing secrets out by the quarry? Steve realizes how much more physically affectionate Billy’s gotten since they moved here. Like the moment he was out of Hawkins, he was more relaxed, happier. Billy even fell asleep against him watching movies the other night, and Steve hadn’t given it a second thought.

“Holy shit,” Steve says out loud, and shakes his head. “I am such an idiot. How the fuck…? I am such a moron!”

He looks down at Billy, shaking his head, still reeling from all that he’s had to take in, and grimaces at how much more skittish Billy looks after that outburst.

“How can you even like such a moron?” he asks, and watches Billy blink, wet lashes clumping together prettily, swallowing like he has a knot in his throat.

“Well,” he says, and his voice sounds like he’s smoked a million cigarettes, “It’s a hard life, but, someone’s gotta do it…?”

“Asshole,” Steve grins, and leans in. Touches Billy’s lips with his. Cautious. It feels good, so he does it again. The way Billy’s lips start to smile against his makes it even better.


	13. the confession

Shoving Billy back into the party isn’t so hard once he’s a little pliant from kissing against the brick wall, and he’s in a good enough mood that, even drunk, he doesn’t do much more than sigh dramatically when Steve lets go of his hand. 

“Alright,” he mutters, “Let’s do this. You there! Yeah, you.” He’s pointing at Steve’s table, where the guys he had dinner with still lounge after the dishes have been cleared away. “You look like you’re shit at darts, and I could use some spare change. Get off your ass.” 

Steve takes a seat at the bar and watches Billy rouse a group to play against, watches him do that trick he likes, of pretending he isn’t fucking awesome at darts until his opponents think he’s safe to bet against. Billy is still drinking, but at least he’s slowed down a bit, has switched to beer, even. Steve has to suppress a smile when he roars at hitting a bullseye, pumping his fist in the air, and he almost doesn’t notice Will sitting down next to him. 

“Sorry,” he says, grimacing a bit. “I know, he’s loud.”

But Will just gives him a soft smile and shrugs.

“Think I like him better this way,” he observes as Billy takes another guy’s money with a wide grin and proudly counts it.

Steve can’t help feel like he’s watching Billy jump back in time to all the high school and college parties they went to together and _together,_ and it’s beautiful but eerie too. Watching him stalk around with all this confidence and swagger that Steve only realizes now he hasn’t seen so much of in Billy in a long while.

“I wish I had something like you guys do,” Will says thoughtfully, pulling Steve from his thoughts, and Steve glances over to realize Will had been watching him. “I mean, you’re so clearly made for each other. It’s like, crazy.”

Steve huffs a little laugh at that in spite of himself.

“Not that simple,” he says, but it feels like a breath of fresh air being able to talk to someone so normally. As if, for a moment, he’s at a party at home in New York, where neither he nor Billy have to hide what they are to each other. It feels damn good. 

“I mean, yeah, when it’s good, it’s _so_ good.” He has to smile to himself, and Will looks sympathetic and a little wistful. “But we’ve got stuff to work through, like everyone else. He can be a stubborn bastard, and I… well, I’m sure he has a long list of things I could improve at.” 

“But you love each other, right?” Will asks simply, and Steve glances back at where Billy’s showboating across the room. He nods. 

“And you _want_ to be together?”

Steve feels an uncomfortable pit in his stomach, thinking of their fight earlier. Billy’s inability to really answer Steve’s question. He sets his jaw and nods again. 

“Yeah, of course.” But his voice has gone kind of wobbly in a way Will can probably notice. But Will is too good to pick it out or mention that. Too sweet and kind. Instead he just sips his drink and shrugs. 

“Well I might not be, like, the best authority on this, but it seems like that’s the most important thing right there,” he says. “Like the rest of it doesn’t matter as long as you’re just open with each other, you know? You gotta work it out like a team. Something something basketball metaphor,” he finishes with a wave of his hand. 

Steve snorts a laugh. 

“Shit, when’d you get so smart, Byers?” he teases, and Will laughs back. 

Before either of them can say anything else, though, they’re being suddenly joined at the bar by Billy and some other guy who looks about as plastered as him.

“Hey, you!” Billy knocks on the bar and points at the bartender. “You got a keg around here somewhere? My new friend and I have a settle to set— a _score_ to settle.”

Will and Steve meet each other’s eyes over Billy’s back and Steve shakes his head, standing. Apparently Billy hasn’t slowed down as much as Steve had thought. Or maybe just being around people like this is making him feel drunker. Either way, if he’s drunk enough to not only casually drink beer — something he hasn’t done since college, and _certainly_ not since he noticed the first 10 pounds — but to be clamoring to show off his kegstand?

“Actually, I think it’s time to leave, Bill,” Steve suggests, stepping in to take Billy’s arm that isn’t wrapped around his _new friend_ ’s shoulders and settling it around his own. “Siouxsie’s probably missing you, don’t you think?”

Billy’s _friend_ snorts a laugh.

“Your wife’s name is Suzy?” he says. “God, imagine screaming that in bed.”

He bursts into a fit of laughter, and Billy does with him. Probably more at the hysterical image of Siouxsie dressed in a housecoat wondering where the hell her husband has been, but still just as loud and hysterically.

“Hey, Will, get his other side, will ya?” Steve asks desperately, and Will springs to action, vaguely helping the other guy take a seat at the bar while he slips under a broad arm, holding Billy more steady than before.

“Mm, you two are cute,” Billy takes a break from laughing to leer. “How much for both of you?”

Billy’s friend laughs his ass off at that, but Steve decides it’s time to stop being gentle about it and starts walking forward, not minding when it causes Billy to walk straight into a table.

“Is the party over already? We didn’t see the _stripper_ yet,” Billy complains, and Steve could swear he is making himself extra heavy on purpose. 

“Alright, see you later, Jonathan, I mean, see you at the chapel. Great party,” Steve manages to squeeze out, and Billy nods emphatically. 

“Yeah, great party, Byers, just wish you hadn’t skimped on the naked ladies.” 

“Okay, babe, I think they got it,” Steve mutters, as he and Will steer Billy out the back gate and towards the car. “Now where the fuck are my keys…” 

“They’re in my pocket, Stevie,” Billy purrs, pushing his nose against Steve’s neck. “Too bad I don’t have any hands free…” 

“No, they’re not,” Steve sighs, letting go of Billy’s side just enough to grab the keys from his own pocket.

“Well, you should check, just to make sure,” Billy sulks, just as Steve unlocks the door for him. 

“In you go. Don’t barf on the seats.” 

Billy is as movable as a sack of sand, leaning against the car side. “D’you like Stevie’s new ride, Byers?” he says proudly. “Ain’t she a beaut?” 

Will exchanges a worried look with Steve. It seems like his interest in cars is about as deep as Steve’s is in Dungeons and Dragons. “Uh, it’s nice?” 

“ _Nice_ ,” Billy snorts. “Philistine. Stevie, you better not think it’s _nice_.” 

“Oh, I think it’s _super_ -nice,” Steve can’t help but torture him a little, and smiles at the dark look Billy shoots him. “Now come on, get in.” 

Together with Will he finally manages to get Billy seated. “Thanks, man. See you tomorrow?” Steve grins at him. “Don’t forget to bring the rings.”

Billy is hardly easier to handle getting out of the car than he was going in, but at least Steve doesn’t have to open the door to his house. His mother opens it for them. 

“Hello, darling. Did you have a nice night?” 

“Mrs. _Harrington_ ,” Billy at his side says in a strangely flirty tone. “Lookin’ good tonight…” 

“Yeah, it was great. Billy’s had a bit too much though, just gonna get him to bed…” 

“Mmmmh, yeah. Put me to bed, pretty boy.” 

His mother clucks her tongue sympathetically. “Yes, and then come join us on the patio for a nightcap, sweetie. It’s such a nice night.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Steve agrees distractedly.

“Let’s _go_ , _sweetie_ ,” Billy insists, tugging at Steve’s shirt and pulling it clean out of where it was tucked into his pants in the process. Steve feels his cheeks flush, but at least his mom doesn’t seem to notice.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble, Bill, come on,” Steve sighs, pulling him down the hall. Luckily, the prospect of bed seems to sober Billy just enough that he’s walking a little on his own, even if he’s got his lips on Steve’s neck by the time they make it to his door.

“Are you gonna come to bed with me, baby?” Billy asks as Steve sits him down on the stiff bed. “I want you to come to bed with me tonight. Don’t like sleeping without you.”

Steve tries to extricate himself from Billy’s wandering hands, only to have Billy suck one of his fingers into his wet mouth clumsily.

“Jesus.” Steve shivers, as blood rushes to his dick in spite of every fucking thing.

Billy pops off his fingers quickly at that, but only to stare wide-eyed up at him and reach out to cup the bulge in his slacks.

“Mm you’re so pretty when you’re hard, baby,” he sighs. “I miss getting you hard. Miss the taste of your dick.”

 _Now is not the time for this_ , Steve thinks to himself. _You’re too drunk to have this conversation with, asshole_ , but he engages anyway. Can’t help the bitter, “you’re the one that keeps turning it down,” that slips out before he can stop it.

“No, I don’t,” Billy says, quite earnestly, taking Steve’s hand and using all his weight to pull him down to the bed with him. 

“Yeah, you do,” Steve scoffs, but Billy shakes his head. 

“No, but I don’t want to, baby. Always want you. Wanna fuck you. Make you feel good.”

“So why don’t you?”

Billy buries his face in Steve’s neck with a soft noise of defeat and mumbles something, but Steve can’t make it out.

“Babe?”

Billy pulls back and breathes out a shuddering sigh, not meeting Steve’s gaze, then he frowns and grabs Steve’s hand, bringing it down between his legs to cup his dick. It’s almost entirely soft thanks to all the drinking, and Steve raises an eyebrow at the fact that Billy seems to think they can work past that.

“Baby, you’re too drunk for this. You’re not gonna get hard.”

Billy lets go of Steve’s hand and lets his head fall to Steve’s chest miserably.

“No, not because I’m too drunk,” he mumbles.

Steve laughs.

“Yeah, I think you’re pretty drunk.”

“No, I _know_ I’m drunk. I can’t get hard ‘cause… fuck!” He turns away from Steve, swipes at his eyes, and Steve worries for a moment. He hadn’t thought this was so serious for Billy, or he wouldn’t have joked about it. He puts his hand on Billy’s shoulder, then leans in to kiss it. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “No big deal, baby. We’ll do it when you’re less plastered.” 

Billy groans and shakes his head. “My dick is _broken_ , Stevie,” he says, voice thick with tears. 

Steve gives him another kiss. “No, it’s not. Just sleep, sweetheart. I promise, I’ll fuck you from here till Sunday when we’re back home.” 

Billy hums and clings a little as Steve shuffles out from under him.

“Promise?” he asks, dreamily.

“Yeah, baby.” Steve turns to pull off Billy’s shoes and his jeans, leaving him in undershirt and briefs.

“Even if I can’t get hard still?” Billy asks so quietly Steve almost doesn’t hear it.

He frowns, leaning in to kiss Billy’s forehead. “Don’t worry about that. Just sleep now, babe.”

Billy is still sniffling a little, but he lets Steve lay him down and tuck him in. 


	14. the talk

By the time Steve leaves the downstairs guest bedroom he’s all but forgotten about his mother’s invitation, but apparently she very much hasn’t because as soon as his foot hits the bottom stair to head up to his own lonely bed she’s calling to him.

He’s tired, and really wants nothing more than to go lie in bed and wonder about all the things Billy slurred to him tonight, but a drink does sound nice and Mom always has good wine around. The fact that Dad is out there with her when he reaches the back porch startles Steve out of his haze a little bit. They look like they’ve been Talking, and that sends shivers of memory down Steve’s spine, making him feel like a teenager again. Like he’s 14 and got caught smoking with some neighborhood kids. Like he’s 16 and the party he tried to throw while they were out got a bit out of hand. Like he’s 18 and he’s moving out of state with the boy who broke his face the year before.

“Have a seat, son,” his dad reminds him, and Steve does, frowning.

He takes the glass his mother offers, and sips from it cautiously. Tries not to zone out when they inevitably take about a year to politely come to the point of whatever they have brought him out to discuss. But by the time he’s successfully pulled himself back from thinking about Billy’s soft dick in his hand, the tears in his eyes as he tried to get the words out, his parents both have that look on their faces they always get when they feel he’s not picking up on what they’re saying fast enough.

“Mm, yeah,” he nods vaguely, finishing his wine and standing up. “Hey, can we talk about this after the wedding? It’s been a long day, and…”

“What are you _doing_ up in New York, honey?” his mom finally sighs, giving him that _I’m worried for you_ look she perfected years ago.

Steve doesn’t know how to respond. He shrugs and throws up his hands helplessly.

“You know what I’m doing there,” he says. “I’ve got my spot at the salon there, Billy’s got his job, we were thinking of making some renovations on the apartment...” It’s a lie, _he’s_ been daydreaming about it, but the time to float the idea with Billy just hasn’t seemed to present itself. But surely they won’t follow up on it, and if he doesn’t lie their lives sound so _stagnant_...

“Are you really going to spend the rest of your life doing other people’s _hair_ , son?” his dad is asking now, and Steve would take all of Jonathan’s friends’ disapproval over that simple sentence any day. Steve looks out over the gently glimmering pool and stays silent. Wonders again why he doesn’t remember ever seeing it open before, on his trips back home. Why his parents don’t seem like they use it at all since he moved. What was it Billy had said the night before?

_They want something._

And the idea that they’d have the pool opened back up and cleaned special just to make Steve feel more welcome, just to _get_ something from him seems paranoid at best, but…

“... of course the pay is better than whatever you’re getting now, plus benefits, and you could come stay in that studio your mom bought downtown for her art until an apartment opens up. You know Karen Wheeler’s a realtor now, I’m sure she could help you find something nice…”

Disappointment sinks like a stone in Steve’s stomach and he sets his wine glass down on the table too hard, before covering it up with a weak smile.

“You want me to come work for you.”

His dad’s face lights up, now that he finally seems to have caught on.

“Work _with_ me, Steve. Let me show you the ropes so I can pass the business onto you one day.”

 _They want something_ , Billy’s voice whispers in his head.

“I’ll think about it,” he says, his voice cracking. He doesn’t know why he says it. It’s just habit at this point, he guesses. _Might as well not burn this bridge, yet_. It’s been his mentality since he left here almost exactly 12 years ago.

“I’m not getting any younger, son,” his dad says, with a self-deprecating smile. “But I’m proud of what I’ve achieved, the company I’ve built, over the years. And nothing would make me happier than to hand over the reins to my son.”

“You’ve turned into a fine young man, honey,” his mother chimes in. “Entirely without us, we know… and you’ve had the chance to live out your… big city lifestyle, off in New York, but maybe now it’s time to turn over a new leaf.”

She reaches over to him, covers her hand with his. “Time to come home.”

My _lifestyle_. Steve stares at her hand, as transfixed as a rabbit by the rattle of a snake. It feels like it takes ages to get his voice to work. He clears his throat.

“Listen, I’m really beat. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Of course. Think it over, sleep on it.”

As he stands up, so does his dad, clapping him on the shoulder, all easy camaraderie. Steve can’t remember a time when his dad ever showed physical affection like that.

“Goodnight,” he mumbles, shuffling a hand through his hair tiredly and heading in to bed.

\--- \\\\\\\ ---

Steve hasn’t called home in weeks, not since just after Billy spent the night the first time, when he’d been so anxious about what to hide and what to tell that he’d spent the whole call responding to his mother’s questions with vague hums and nonsense answers that had probably made her think he was high.

But Billy’s birthday is a week away now and even if she doesn’t know Billy that well, Steve’s mom has always been so great at buying the right gifts for anyone.

“ _So, what does he like?_ ”

 _Me_ , Steve thinks, a little giddy still over the concept. _He likes_ **me**. And he likes it when we fuck on my kitchen table.

“ _Steve_?”

“I dunno,” he says, and she sighs.

“ _Honey…_ ”

“Sorry, mom. I don’t know… Music? He likes music, but concert tickets are, like, _so expensive_ …”

“ _Well..._ ” He can hear her mind wandering, bored with the subject. “ _Does he still have that horrible car? You could get him a voucher for a gas station or something._ ”

Steve can hear the mild tone of disapproval in her voice that always creeps in talking about Billy, and he does his best to ignore it, twisting his fingers up in the phone cord.

“Mom, come on. Be serious.”

“ _I don’t see why it’s the end of the world, darling. I’m sure he’s easy enough to please.”_

“He is.” Steve smiles a little to himself. The other day Steve had made pancakes before he woke up for class and Billy hadn’t stopped smiling till he left Steve’s apartment.

“ _Well, then I’m sure whatever you get him will be fine, sweetheart. It’s just a birthday.”_

“Well that’s just it…” Steve says, chewing his lip. “It’s, uh… kind of an anniversary gift too?”

Steve’s heart pounds in his chest for the single second it takes her to respond.

“ _I’m sorry, Steven, I’m just not understanding you now. Whose anniversary is it?_ ”

She sounds slightly annoyed with him now, but he’s too far into this to back out. He has to tell someone. Has been bursting with it for weeks. Steve takes a deep breath and clenches his fist up in the phone cord like a tether.

“Ours,” he says. “It’s ours. Billy and mine. One month. I, um, wanted to tell you first, and like, you always get dad the best presents for things like that, so I thought…”

The silence on the other side of the line starts to stretch.

“Mom?” he prompts when he can’t take it anymore. “You still there?”

“ _Yes, dear._ ” He breathes a sigh of relief, but then she continues. “ _I have to go now. Christie Finnacker and the girls are coming over for cocktails._ ”

“Right.” Okay. Maybe it was too much information all at once for her. He takes a deep breath. “Mom, about Billy and me—”

“ _Steve. I mean it. I don’t have the time to hear about your new little phase right now._ ”

“Phase?” He swallows.

“ _Yes, yes, I know, kids like to experiment and go wild and all that after they leave home, but that doesn’t mean your poor mother wants to hear about it, okay? Gotta go, love you, hon._ ”

The line clicks, and goes dead.

He doesn’t call home again for a while after that.


	15. the wedding

Billy wakes up to a head filled with buzzing bees and something cool touching his bare arm. He squints, then quickly closes his eyes again. _Ow_. 

“Gotta get up, baby,” a voice says next to his ear. Steve’s voice. When Billy tries that eye-opening thing again, he can see the cool thing is a glass of water, fizzing slightly. 

“God,” he croaks, and Steve smiles. 

“You can call me Steve, you know. C’mon, drink this.”

“Ugh,” Billy grumbles, but obediently reaches for the water and gulps it down. He wants to lie down again after that, rest his aching head, but Steve has other plans. 

“C’mon. I let you sleep as long as possible, but you gotta get moving now, or we’ll be in trouble. I am not gonna have us bursting in late while Nancy’s walking up to the altar.” 

“Fuck,” Billy moans. “Wedding. Do we gotta?” 

“Yes,” Steve says, getting up. “I laid out your clothes over there. There’s a bagel with your name on it in the kitchen, but if you don’t hurry up, I’m gonna eat it.” 

“Mmh you better keep your hands off, Harrington, or I’ll eat _them_ ,” he threatens stupidly, even as he slowly slips his feet out to the floor.

“Yeah, you’ll have to catch me first,” Steve teases.

And while Billy still feels like shit, even after his rushed shower, it feels like only minutes pass before they’re on the road. The fact that Steve’s driving again gives him a little swoop of satisfaction, like this means he finally likes the damn car, even as Billy squints at himself in the passenger side mirror skeptically.

“Still don’t know why you like me in this cream thing so much,” he grumbles. “Look fucking fat when I unbutton the jacket. Look at this.”

Steve glances over at a stop sign, and then reaches over cheekily to give his middle a feel. Billy feels caught in a spotlight he definitely doesn’t want, but Steve just smiles in that soft way he has that makes Billy want to do anything for him, and gives his thigh a reassuring squeeze. 

“You look smoking hot, baby,” he corrects. “Stop fussing around with it. And leave that top bit how you had it so I have something to keep me going when things get boring.”

Billy feels a little foolish, soaking up Steve’s praise like he is, needing it like he does, but Steve’s hand grounds him. Billy links their fingers together and squeezes it back. But when they pull into the parking space in front of the church, people milling around, going inside, his reluctance comes creeping back. 

He turns to Steve as if he’s just realized something. “Shit, do we even have a gift? We don’t have a gift, Stevie. We better turn back now. Do you know if there’s a Sears…?” 

Steve snorts. “Nice try. It’s in the trunk, dickhead. I bought it weeks ago.” 

Billy sighs, looks at the crowd. The bridesmaids are already taking their places, giggling in lavender. 

“I don’t want to,” he says sullenly. “How about we go find a motel instead? I’ll suck you off as many times as you like.” 

“You mean to tell me you won’t do that anyway?” Steve looks at him with raised eyebrows, then cracks a smile and gives Billy’s hand one last squeeze. 

“Come on, you big baby. We got this.” 

It’s not even like Billy is usually one of those touchy-feely people, not in public. But the moment he can’t, not without causing the upper middle-class version of a _riot_ , he feels the overwhelming urge to latch onto Steve like a leech. It fucking _sucks_ not being able to touch his boyfriend at all, especially in an environment so sickeningly full of couples. And then they’re inside the actual church, and even though it’s easily different from the big Catholic one he grew up going to with his mother, Billy feels a wave of discomfort sweep over him the second he’s inside. 

All the crosses, the bibles, even some of the _smells_ of it have Billy feeling a bit like he’s about to be smote where he stands. At least it makes the case against holding Steve’s hand a little more convincing. 

An usher shows them to their seat, near the back with what seems to be the rest of the happy couple’s Hawkins friends, on the _groom’s_ side. Billy’s lip curls into a grimace at the thought of how deliberate that probably was, since to the outside world it looks like Steve’s been at least mostly single for the 13 years since he and Nancy broke up. 

“They fucking think you’re still recovering from a broken heart,” he mutters to Steve, and Steve laughs, but Billy doesn’t think he made the connection. Steve has Max on his other side, and the two are talking in hushed voices, dissecting the other guests’ hats, from what Billy can tell. He frowns, and wishes he could wear his sunglasses. At least that way he could get some more sleep. 

The sound of the swelling organ kills any chance of rest, though, and the congregation stands up as one. Billy doesn’t know anybody in the wedding party for the most part. Probably all college friends or cousins, with Mike Wheeler and the other one thrown in somewhere. “Oh, _look_ ,” some old lady next to him sighs then, and yes, there is Nancy Wheeler, looking disgustingly radiant and glowing and beautiful, and he can feel his insides churn with envy, or more likely the remnants of last night’s scotch and this morning’s bagel. It’s all he can do to clench his teeth and keep from fucking glaring.

Steve’s fingers brush against the back of his where nobody’s looking, and Billy feels himself relax a little, and more so when they get to sit down and Steve’s ankle moves to rest up against his. 

He barely remembers later what was said during the service, but since Nancy and Jonathan leave the church among smiles, cheers and ringing bells, it must have all gone well. 

By the time people start to file out to watch the newlyweds get in a limo that will take them _all the way_ back to the Wheelers’, Billy’s more than ready to have this church in their rear-view mirror. But Steve hasn’t gotten up even by the time Nancy’s grandmother is half-way out the front doors, so Billy slinks back in, slipping into the pew just behind him.

Steve is staring at the program in his hands, Nancy and Jonathan’s sappy engagement photo on the front, and as Billy gets closer he can hear Steve sigh. Billy glances around before leaning forward and putting a hand on his shoulder, feeling like he’s really pushing this smiting thing now. His eyes flick up at the altar uncomfortably, and he has to resist the instinct to make the sign of the cross.

“Babe? Come on, we should get going or all the good canapées will be gone when we get there,” he tries to lighten the mood. It doesn’t seem to work. 

Steve actually _sniffles_. 

“Shit,” Billy breathes, and sits down heavily on the bench. He can’t see Steve’s eyes. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Steve says sullenly, and decidedly tearfully. “It’s just, it’s, I mean, fuck. I wanna have this, Bill.”

Billy feels an uncomfortable pit form in his stomach and looks away. Back at that big ugly cross without the Jesus on it. _Save me_ , he thinks desperately.

“All seems like a lot of heterosexual bullshit to me. _Come on down for a party we spent too much money on and probably will spend too much time worried about to enjoy, so we can publically announce we’ve been fucking_ ,” he mocks.

Steve’s little laugh still sounds miserable.

“It’s… I mean… yeah. _Kind of_ ,” he mutters. “But… it’s… you know, you get everyone that’s important to you sitting down in a room where they can’t run away, or tell you they’re busy, or… hang up the phone, and you go up there and you get to openly say, hey. This is love. We love each other. Deal with it, asswipes.”

And okay, that gets to Billy a bit more. Feels a bit more personal. Like Steve’s not just saying he wants to go back to dating vaginas. Like maybe this person Steve wishes he could marry isn’t purely hypothetical.

Billy leans forward against the bench back in front of him and breathes in the faint scent of Steve’s cologne mixing with the dust and old wood of the church around them. Imagines standing up at that altar today instead, putting a ring on Steve’s finger. The mental image is bittersweet. But when Billy thinks about how unhappy, how _trapped_ _with him_ Steve already seems so much of the time, it just becomes bitter.

“It’s just an overpriced party to sell organised religion, baby,” he repeats dully. Reminding _himself_ of that more than anything, before he ends up weepy too. “Come on. Let’s save Siouxsie from your parents and go get some cake.”

There’s a second when Steve doesn’t get up that makes Billy’s heart skip a beat, but then he’s sidling out of the bench and making for the exit. His shoulders are slumped, and even his hair looks depressed somehow. _Fuck it,_ Billy thinks, right before he slings his arm around Steve’s shoulder and squeezes hard. To any onlooker it might seem like he’s consoling Steve Harrington for losing his high-school sweetheart to someone else, and even if it doesn’t… well, he can never see Steve down like this. 

Steve puts on his sunglasses and sniffs one last time, then he digs in his pockets for the keys. 

“I’d say you can drive for a spell, but I’m not gonna,” he says petulantly, and Billy grins. 

“She’s all yours, baby.”


	16. the talk part two

At least the dog is ecstatic to see them. It makes Billy wonder if the Harringtons even noticed there was a dog in the house, or if they ignored her as much as they used to ignore their son, back in the day. While Steve goes inside to feed her, Billy waits by the pool, running his fingers through the clear water. 

“I thought you two were going directly to the reception.” 

The unexpected voice behind him nearly makes him jump and topple into the water. He straightens up, does his best attempt at a mother-charming smile. 

“Steve thought maybe we should get Siouxsie. Save you from babysitting for a bit.” Or rather, save the dog. 

“How sweet of him,” his mother smiles and Billy nods, all the while trying to think of a way to get away from her without seeming rude. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna go check and see what he’s up to. Maybe I can help.”

Mrs. Harrington puts her hand on his arm to hold him back. “Actually, Billy, I think it would be nice to have a little talk. Come, sit down with me.” 

_Talk_. All of his instincts yell at him that this isn’t a good idea, but he can’t seem to come up with a good enough excuse not to, so he joins her on one of the patio chairs. 

“I’m sure Steve has told you all about our discussion last night.” 

Last night? Billy only hazily remembers even going to bed with Steve’s help, let alone any words. He keeps his face neutral. She waits for half a second to be acknowledged, and when he doesn’t reply, goes on. 

“I just want to ask you for a favor: that you let Steve make up his own mind. Not try to influence him. I’m sure we both know you _could_. He listens to you.”

 _Pouring on the sugar. She is good_ , he thinks distractedly, while his mind races to try and figure out what the hell she could be talking about. Let Steve make up his mind about _what_? 

“Steve is his own man, Linda,” he says pleasantly, to buy time. “I’m sure he knows what he wants.” 

“He’s still just a boy,” she says, and he really wants to smack her for that. “He has been living for years in your little bubble in New York, away from real life. But he really could build something here, with his father.” 

A sinking feeling of realization. “You offered him a job.” 

“Not just _a job_ , honey,” she laughs, and he feels a bit like throwing up. “A _career_. He’d be building something, a legacy. He’d be home, with his friends and family…” 

“He could get married?” 

She smiles thinly at him. “Who knows what might happen.” 

There is a dull roaring in his ears, probably the blood rushing out of his head, as he tries to parse her words. Meanwhile, she keeps right on talking. At least, he can hear sounds coming out of her mouth. It takes him a moment to make sense of them. 

“... and Steve isn’t _happy_ , you can’t pretend that he is. Alone in New York, no perspective, no goals, no future to speak of. Just taking care of that dog, and you.” 

_And me. Glad to see I got a place among the Also Ran_ , he thinks hysterically, and has to fucking blink. He won’t let this woman see she got to him, he _won’t_. 

“So all I’m asking is this: don’t be selfish.” 

He has to look at her then, and he can’t help the fact that she can see the tears building up in his eyes. He’s ten years old again, being dismantled by a hard man with a mustache. 

“You’ve had your _fun_ with him, but now it’s his turn to get a life.” 

And with those words, she gets up, pats his arm, and leaves. Billy sits there, thunderstruck, and tears are rolling down his face now, completely beyond his control. He can’t stop them and can’t deny that what Mrs. Harrington said to him is true. Fucking all of it. 

Then there’s a bark from the terrace door and he quickly wipes away the tears, puts on his sunglasses. Takes a deep breath. 

“Alright, let’s go get that wedding cake, I’m starving,” Steve says, and Billy gets up from his chair and nods briskly, not trusting his voice. 

And still, Steve must have noticed something, because he frowns at him and touches his shoulder. “Hey, everything okay? You need another alka-seltzer?” 

He shakes his head, clears his throat. “Nah, I’m good. Shouldn’t drink if you’re not willing to pay the price.”


	17. norman bates

Bag. Jacket. Kiss. Shoes. Kiss. Shirt. Kiss.

If undressing Billy was an olympic sport, Steve would be winning gold medals in every event these days. After class, before a shower, while he studies, even on one eventful occasion, while they were eating dinner.

Tonight, Billy’s been away all day, back to back in classes and then tutoring some idiot senator’s son on the other side of the city that Steve likes to insist he’s not jealous of, not at all. Even if the way he’d barely got in a hello before Steve was smothering him against his door begs to differ.

Either way Billy wouldn’t mind if it didn’t mean he’s standing in Steve’s living room, bare ass about to press against the unlocked front door again, while Steve’s still fully clothed.

“Hey, _hi_ , how was your day?” he teases, pushing Steve back a bit to give him a breather. “Do you wanna move this out of the common area _before_ Norman Bates gets back?”

Steve grimaces and pulls off his own shirt like a show of good faith or something.

“Yeah, maybe don’t call him that when he’s around again. Last time he poured my shampoo down the drain by _‘accident._ ’”

Billy cackles and locks the door behind him.

“I’m just telling it like it is. He’s got that fuckin’ vibe…” He gestures vaguely and shivers, apparently not impressing Steve with his act.

“Anyways, I think he left,” Steve says, shucking off his pants and backing towards the couch with purpose.

“What do you mean?” Billy asks, a little too distracted by the sight of Steve stripping to actually care about his creepy roommate. “He go home for the holidays or something?”

Is there even a holiday coming up? With the way Steve’s skin is glowing in the dim lamplight, it’s hard to remember.

“I mean, I went into his room because his fucking alarm went off again, and there’s like, almost nothing left in it.”

Billy follows Steve, pulled on a tether, until they’ve both reached the small couch and Steve is sitting down on it clumsily.

“He hadn’t told you he was moving out or anything?”

“Huh-uh.” Steve shakes his head and leans in till his face is even with Billy’s half-hard dick.

“That’s fuckin… _inconsiderate_ ,” is the last thing Billy’s mind provides before Steve’s warm, wet mouth is pressed against his dick, less a blowjob and more a sloppy kiss.

Billy is riding high as Steve moves his dick out of the way to focus on his balls for a second — he’s developing personal fucking taste in male anatomy now, and Billy couldn’t be prouder — but only for a second before Steve sits back and cold air returns, making him shiver.

“Yeah, last time he was here all he said was he was sick of finding my ‘loud friend’s boxer shorts everywhere.’ Don’t know what he was talking about. You never wear boxers.” Steve rolls his eyes, lying back on the couch and giving Billy’s hips a tug forward. And Billy’s heart sinks.

“It’s because they’re not panties,” he says, suddenly a lot less in the mood to straddle Steve’s thighs, and instead shoving them over to sit next to him heavily.

“What? No. _Billy_ , he’s not a creep. He’s just kinda quiet—”

“No, Steve. Because it’s _me_. He wouldn’t give a fuck if you were banging a girl. He probably left thinking he was gonna ‘catch gay’ from just being around us or some shit.”

Steve sits up then too, and frowns.

“Oh,” he says. And at least it feels as heavy as Billy’s suddenly feeling over all this. Makes him feel a little less crazy for suddenly giving a shit what Norman _fucking_ Bates says about him. But somehow it feels worse knowing that it brought Steve down. Makes him want to punch the guy in his mousy face.

“Fuck him,” he says, turning slightly to give Steve a kiss. “Fucking dickwad who wouldn’t know a good time if it came and sat in his lap. Who needs that kind of roommate?”

“Well,” Steve sighs, brushing his hair out of his face. “I mean, I kinda do. Like, I just finally stopped having to ask my old man to pay my half of the rent last month, but I can’t cover Norman’s half too with what I make right now.”

Billy smirks a little to hear Steve using the nickname now too, and leans further to bite a kiss into his neck. He can leave a mark now, at least, if Bates isn’t around to know who did it.

“I mean, there’s no way I can go back to my dad for rent money now,” Steve sighs, moving to give Billy’s mouth better access. “Getting him to pay this long was like pulling teeth. So unless I can find another roommate in like, four days, one that isn’t a serial killer and like, maybe one that won’t mind that you’re gonna be here… most of the time… I’m gonna have to go back to Hawkins.”

And Billy may have been only half listening to most of that, busier drowning himself in the feel of Steve’s body against his lips, but he hears that last bit loud and clear. And if he thought he felt like shit before, that’s nothing to the freefall his whole body seems to think it’s in now.

“Wait, what?” he croaks before any other words can register. “What d’you mean, leave? You can’t leave.”

“Well, I guess I could move out of here and see if the YMCA has any vacancies, that could be fun.” Steve snorts, pulling Billy more on top of him and holding onto his hips.

Billy sighs and looks across the room, thinking.

“I mean, I could...”

Except he’s seen Steve’s rent for this place, and it’s not exactly cheaper than the dorms he’s stuck in right now. Plus there’s utilities and transportation to factor in.

Steve groans and runs a hand up Billy’s chest, bringing him down till their mouths can touch.

“It’s fine, Bill. It’ll figure itself out,” he assures with a kiss. “Anyway it’s not like I can do anything about it tonight, right? So why don’t you—”

“What if you could?” he blurts out.

Billy’s heart is hammering as he sits back up a little, straddling Steve’s denim-clad lap.

Steve frowns, confused, and just that makes Billy feel more like he’s about to get shot way down. Like Steve still just views Billy as a friend. A good one, with a sex drive to at least match his, but certainly not a serious boyfriend. Certainly not someone he’d want to _live_ with.

Billy continues anyway.

“I could go to Housing, tell them I don’t need a dorm next semester after all. If you wanted…”

Steve doesn’t answer immediately, seeming to confirm Billy’s fears in the moment, but when he dares to glance up and meet his eyes they tell a different story.

“You’d… do that?”

Steve’s voice is hushed, hesitant. Like he’s afraid to scare the idea away.

Billy just nods.

“Wouldn’t it cost you more to—”

“I don’t care,” Billy says firmly.

He settles down so that every inch of their bodies is pressed together, and brushes his fingers through Steve’s soft hair as he meets his eyes.

“I don’t want you to go back home, pretty boy,” he breathes. “I— I mean, I kinda dig having you around, y’know, in case that wasn’t already clear, and having to drive out to Hawkins just to see you would be a hell of a commute. Not that I wouldn’t do it…”

Billy feels his fucking ears heat up and buries his face in the side of Steve’s chest. God. Someone shoot him now, please.

“Shit,” Steve gasps, squirming backward on the small couch, but when he pushes Billy away it’s with a grin on his face.

“You can’t just say something like that and then fucking tickle me with your stubble, asshole,” he laughs.

Billy snorts in spite of himself, and does it again, this time on purpose.

Steve grunts and shoves him off, only to sit up after him and smother his mouth with his own.

“You really want to move in together?” he asks breathlessly once they have to come up for air. “Like, actually moving in, like, _live_ together?”

“Yeah,” Billy gives back, and just that one word, and the admission that goes with it, makes him want to hide again, but seeing how it lights up Steve’s face makes it worth it.

“Just had to make sure,” Steve grins, “I mean, I’m all _shook up_ from hearing that you _dig_ me…”

“Fuck. Can you just forget I said that?” Billy pleads, and Steve laughs.

“Forget the most romantic thing you ever said to me?” he teases, “Hell no, I want that printed on our wedding invitations.”

“Asshole,” Billy grumbles, trying to move back a bit, pick up the remaining shreds of his dignity, maybe, but then Steve pulls him back down on top of him and holds him close.

Steve’s lips brush against Billy’s unpierced ear. “I dig you too,” he whispers.

And even though Billy can still feel his ears burning hot, suddenly he doesn’t mind so much anymore.

Feeling soft and happy and kind of immortal, Billy turns to kiss Steve.

“Then don’t you fuckin’ think about leaving me, baby,” he breathes between more kisses. “Don’t you dare.”

[ ](http://blithesea.net/muse/kyrosh_20-23.png)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Glorious artwork](https://kyrosh.tumblr.com/post/190215136856/another-harringroveforaustralia-this-ones-for) by Kyrosh, go find him on tumblr and reblog all his beautiful art.


	18. the graveyard

When they finally find a parking space not too far from the Wheeler’s cul-de-sac, Steve doesn’t immediately get out of the car. He sits for a moment, maybe just needs a second to get back into party mode. Because that’s what he’s here for, he reminds himself. Not to be wistful about what isn’t, not to feel fucking sorry for himself. They’re here to celebrate with a couple of really old friends that life goes on. 

But Billy hasn’t moved, either. When Steve looks over to him, he’s sitting still, and Steve might think he’s fallen asleep behind those sunglasses, except he’s absently petting the dog in his lap. 

“Hey,” Steve says, letting his hand drop to the clutch, barely touching Billy’s leg. “Everything okay? You haven’t said a word in forever, not even when 4 Non Blondes was on the radio.”

“I’ve given up on trying to improve your taste in music, Harrington,” Billy grunts. “There’s only so much a man can do in this short life.”

Chuckling, Steve leans back in his seat. “I meant to thank you, you know,” he says, voice a little softer. “For coming here with me. I know you didn’t want to. And yeah, I had to drag you here kicking and screaming, but you’re here.”

He can see Billy’s throat working, but it takes a moment until he actually replies. 

“We gonna go get that cake then?” 

Steve can feel the tension coming off him, wants to reach over and try to kiss it away, but there are other party guests mingling on the sidewalk and besides that Billy’s already opening his door. So instead he follows, reaching over in an offer to take Siouxsie’s leash, and lets their fingers brush for a second longer than necessary.

“You sure you’re okay?” he says quietly as Siouxsie sniffs at their shoes, and Billy seems to meet his eyes through the glasses for a long moment before forcing a bit of a smile and nodding.

“I’m with _you_ , aren’t I?” he says, and Steve can’t help but grin even if something about Billy’s voice still sounds wrong. He wants so _badly_ to reach out and hold him close. 

“Gonna go see about a bathroom. I’ll meet you inside,” Billy says as they come up to the yard and Siouxsie pauses to sniff at the mailbox. Before Steve can comment at all he’s walking off, long strides that pair with those cream pants to make his ass look divine.

Siouxsie rubs her face against Steve’s leg, and he reaches down to scratch behind her ears.

Following the highly decorated path up to the open side gate, it becomes clear quickly that the party is starting to be fairly underway, with music playing just loud enough to be heard over the chatter of conversation and cutlery. As he steps into the backyard a sign greets him asking that he sign the guest book, and telling him to sit “wherever your hearts feel drawn to.”

Steve snorts and wonders if the wedding planner had to sneak that one by Nancy and Jonathan, but he does sign the book. And since the buffet table is too crowded to bring Siouxsie to safely right now, he finds a table first, slipping between tables to find the emptiest looking one, with only one bridesmaid sitting at it. _Billy won’t mind sitting here_ , he thinks, and settles down to wait for him. 

What he doesn’t expect is Nancy plopping down on the seat next to him, with a plate full of salad. 

“Hey, Steve!” she says, glowing and out of breath. 

“Hey yourself, Mrs. Byers,” he grins. 

She laughs a little manically at the sound of that and shakes her head.

“It’s kind of crazy, isn’t it?” she asks. “After all this time.”

“Yeah, crazy,” Steve agrees, and he can’t help but catch a little of her high. 

He does feel really happy for his friends, after all. They’re a good match. They’ll make really cute kids, if they end up doing that.

“How’s it feel so far?” he asks, gesturing from the rings glinting on her left hand to the stunning white dress she’s still wearing.

Nancy just hums and takes a big bite of her salad.

“Hungry,” she confesses, half joking, and Steve hums sympathetically.

“Yeah, but once you’re out of that dress, you can live on cake for a month,” he teases, and waggles his eyebrows towards the huge three-tiered wedding cake standing on the side. “Speaking of which…” 

She laughs. “Okay, okay, just give me a moment to swallow what I got in my mouth, and I’ll find my husband to cut that cake so you can get your sugar fix.” 

“I’m just giving you a hard time,” Steve assures her. “You sit back and relax, enjoy this thing for a bit. I can survive without the sugar for at _least_ five more minutes.”

Nancy snorts and shakes her head.

“Hey, Nance,” the lone bridesmaid stage-whispers, bringing Steve’s attention back to her now that several other people have joined their table and there’s a short lull in the conversation. “Does your cute friend have a name? Or a girlfriend?”

Steve answers for her.

“Steve Harrington,” he says, reaching over to shake her hand as formally as he can manage. “My fiancée couldn’t make it, unfortunately. She’s out in Alaska, saving whales.”

Nancy almost chokes on a bit of carrot, but he pats her on the back, smirking a little when she shoots him a disapproving look. It’s the cover story he and Billy usually use for events like this, but Nancy doesn’t know that.

“Oh, that’s so cool,” Nancy’s bridesmaid says distantly, and Steve nods, glancing over her head and smiling as Billy steps out of the house into the yard, looking a bit turned around.

Nancy seems to follow his gaze and realize then that there’s no room for him at this table anymore, as the next second she’s finishing the last bites of her food and moving to stand.

“Well, no rest for the wicked,” she says. “I think my mom’s been looking for me… see you guys later, alright?” 

Steve stands to help her before the dress makes her trip on herself.

“Hey, just make sure to aim high and wide when you toss that bouquet, alright?” he says in a conspiratorial whisper behind his hand. “I know Holly’s got her eyes on it, but I’m planning on beating the little muppet.” 

She snorts a giggle, then slaps his arm. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

He smiles at her fondly. “And you’re beautiful, Nancy Byers.” 

Steve gives her a little hug and then she’s gone.

But strangely, so is Billy, when he looks up again to find him. He’d thought maybe they spotted each other around the same time, but the crowd is completely absent of gorgeous men making a beeline for his table now. It seems odd, Billy nowhere to be seen, and with the way he was so strange in the car ride over, Steve gets the feeling that he should take a look where Billy got himself to. Just to make sure he’s okay. 

“C’mon girl, let’s find you a bowl of water,” he says, giving the leash a little tug, as if Nancy’s cousin is really about to wonder what he and his dog left the table for, and heads over towards the buffet table.

There’s still a bit of a crowd lingering around it as the last people pick up something to eat or the first people come around for seconds and while Steve establishes fairly quickly that none of them are Billy, Siouxsie pauses to make a few friends and he has to stop to answer the usual questions — _no, I don’t know what breed she is, we think she’s about 7 years old, Siouxsie Sioux like the rock band, yes she sheds a lot_ — before he can continue on.

“Hey, you wouldn’t have seen a guy in a cream colored jacket, uh, dirty blond, about my height?” he asks the bartender while the man is hunting for a bowl with tap water. 

“Oh yeah, he was here,” the bartender says. “I think he went out front for a smoke.”

 _That can’t have been Billy then_ , Steve thinks dejectedly. _Just some random guy._

“Nah, that wasn’t him,” he tells the bartender who seems to be waiting for an answer. 

“Ya sure? Blue eyes, aviators in his pocket, brown pocket square?”

“Burgundy,” Steve corrects, frowning. “Can’t have been him, though. He doesn’t smoke.” Anymore. 

“My mistake, then,” the bartender says, with a stupid grin. “You know, I just assumed he might. What with the way he paid me 20 bucks for half a pack of cigarettes and my lighter. I kinda thought he’d like to smoke them, too.” 

“ _Jesus christ_ ,” Steve mutters, already half turning away, and then realizing it probably sounded like that was aimed at the bartender, he throws a quick, “thanks, man,” back at him and turns to head for the front gate. Did Billy just sneak around a corner to light up? Steve can’t see him anywhere, and he’s starting to feel more nervous about this the longer he’s scanning the area and coming up with no Billy at all.

At least he didn’t take the car. Maybe just because Steve has the keys? No, Steve thinks. He wouldn’t just leave, not like this. 

“Where is he, girl? Maybe we should have trained you better, to be more like Lassie,” he tells Siouxsie, who’s content to sniff the verge. 

Steve glances down the street.

“Not like he could’ve gone anywhere,” he mutters half to himself. “Only things you can walk to from here have got to be…” he thinks for a moment, squinting in one direction then the other, and sighs helplessly. “The cemetery?” 

Only once he’s said it out loud does it click in his mind. Steve’s concern becomes much less vague in a second, and he turns on his heel. It’s still a fair distance, and he really wishes he wasn’t wearing his uncomfortable dress shoes. Did Billy really have such a long head start?

“Fuck,” Steve mutters when they reach the little enclosure, everything so quiet, quiet and gloomy, and he doesn’t spot Billy right away. What if he isn’t even here?

But then Siouxsie gives a happy little bark and when he looks in the direction she’s turned to, he sees a flash of cream-colored jacket through the trees, way in the back. He makes his way over, slowing a little to not startle Billy too much. 

When he gets there, Billy is sitting on a bench, just a little slumped, and sucking on a cigarette like the thing’s a lifeline. The mere sight of it makes Steve’s heart break just a little.

Siouxsie tugs on her leash, alerting Billy to their presence with her soft, concerned woofs, and Steve lets go, letting her run ahead to him as Billy looks away quickly.

“You really gonna fall off the wagon without me?” Steve asks as he nears them, feeling a little shaky and grasping for the easiest thing they can deal with out of everything. 

Billy’s trying to pretend he doesn’t want Siouxsie’s attention, but it looks like she’s breaking him as Steve sits down next to him. 

The backs of his fingers trail through her fur for a second before he stoops and picks her up to set her on his lap, the cigarette pursed between his lips making him look oddly younger. 

“You can have one if you want,” Billy offers, toneless. But then he seems to realize the pack is under Siouxsie now, inaccessible, and gives up.

Steve lets out a deep breath while he grasps for something to say. When his mind stalls, his mouth just takes over. 

“I know it’s been awhile since you’ve been to Hawkins, baby, but if you were looking for the Wheelers’ backyard, you overshot a little.”

When Billy doesn’t reply, Steve reaches for his hand. 

Billy’s hand doesn’t react as Steve laces their fingers together, but he doesn’t push him away either.

“You gonna tell me what made you decide to ditch the festivities?” Steve asks softly, and Billy huffs, sniffles slightly. Doesn’t glance over.

“Just needed some place to think,” he answers. And only years of practice dealing with Billy’s moods keeps Steve quiet enough, patient enough to wait out the rest of it. “Thought I’d go see where she put him.”

He glances up and Steve follows his gaze to a white headstone a couple feet off, where 

NEIL HARGROVE

US ARMY VIETNAM 

1945-1995 

is engraved simply.

Steve hasn’t even thought about Neil Hargrove once all weekend, he realizes with a sinking feeling. Too caught up in his own shit, the wedding and his parents and all of it, to notice what’s actually eating at Billy. Fucking hell. 

“I’m sorry,” he starts. “I didn’t think…”

“It’s fine. It’s good to see him. Finally where he fucking belongs,” Billy says distractedly. His voice sounds rougher, closer to tears than it ever did in the months and weeks surrounding his father’s death, though. He scuffs his shoes in the dirt and glances down at their entwined fingers.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, you know,” he says, tightening his hand around Steve’s, and Steve frowns. Doesn’t really think he made much of a difference, where Billy and his dad were concerned. Bits of the truth Billy hinted at, during those long rambly summer nights before they left, but the whole truth of it Steve only understood later, much later, when they were in New York and Billy was adamant about never going back to Hawkins. 

“I think we both lucked out, like crazy,” he admits. “I never thought it would turn out like this, way back then.”

“Yeah…” Billy sniffles then and takes his hand away from Steve’s to rub at his face, looking away.

Steve settles closer when Billy’s hand doesn’t return to his, and presses a kiss to his shoulder.

“I love you,” he says quietly, and finally that gets Billy to turn. His gaze is so intense, dark lashes clumped together slightly with tears, but Steve holds it without faltering, and says it again. “I love you.”

But something changes in Billy’s face then, and he turns away quickly.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” he says. And Steve doesn’t have to wait patiently for him to continue, because he’s too lost for words to speak in the long silence before Billy continues on anyway. 

“I mean, I… I know I’m fucking difficult sometimes, and you— I don’t want you to feel like you’re letting me get away with shit. You shouldn’t do that.”

“What—” Steve frowns, trying to make sense of what Billy is trying to tell him. “What are you saying? I don’t let you get away with shit. I— we’re good, aren’t we? We work stuff out together. We’re doing fine.”

“Steve.” Billy is looking at the dirt at their feet again. “Just saying it out loud doesn’t make it true.”

Steve swallows hard and stares down at his own shoes, sitting forward on the bench.

The silence between them makes the sound of birds in the trees around them feel strangely distant, but Steve can’t think of anything to say, or even get his throat to work for a long time.

“I mean, you say that like you think I didn’t know you were a dick when we first got together,” he finally laughs, hollowly.

He glances back at Billy, hoping maybe that’s enough for him, but Billy’s serious look tells him it’s not.

Steve sighs and throws up his hands, standing up.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he complains, walking over to stare at some grandmother’s headstone. “Yeah, you’re fucking difficult sometimes. But I’m not perfect, either.” He sighs out a harsh breath and paces over the other direction, feeling restless. He sighs. “I mean, shit, I’m still being an ass about the car, aren’t I?”

“The car. Jesus,” Billy sighs. “ _That’s_ really what you’re gonna bring up right now? It’s a _car,_ Steve.”

Steve’s cheeks warm and he feels that itch under his skin that comes from being patronized, made to feel like he’s being stupid, as usual, and this time he doesn’t hold back.

“Yeah, because apparently you think you can just throw money at stuff to make it okay, like that’ll make up for all the late nights and weekends you leave me alone. And of course _you_ can make that decision, ‘cause it’s your money we live off anyway, no matter how much I work...”

“I’m doing that for _us_! I’m working my fucking ass off, for _you_!” Billy interjects, like Steve thought he might, and he can’t stop snapping back at Billy. 

“I never asked you to!”

When he looks back over at Billy’s face, he can see the way Billy’s jaw is clenching. His voice is hoarse when he speaks up. 

“And you think working for your dad will make you feel better?” Billy’s eyes never leave his, don’t even blink. He laughs, but it sounds more like someone is choking him. “Shit, you’re probably right, too. It just might.”

Steve can feel his hands go cold and clammy. “They told you about the offer?”

“Were _you_ gonna tell me at some point, Stevie? Or was it gonna be a surprise tomorrow morning? ‘By the way, I’m not going back with you’?”

“I never said I was gonna take the job.”

“But you were thinking about it.”

“I—” Steve opens and closes his mouth a few times. The fact that Billy could even think for a minute that Steve wants to move back to Hawkins, without him, makes all the little growing gaps between them feel so much wider suddenly.

“Come on, pretty boy, be honest. You’ve been miserable with me, your parents offered you a nice cushy life, and you kinda want it. Just tell it like it is, for fuck’s sake.”

“You want me to tell it like it is, Billy?” Steve says, his voice struggling past that lump that’s thick in his throat. 

“Knowing your parents, that’s gotta be a foreign concept, but you could _try_ ,” Billy mocks, and Steve very much wants to punch him. 

“Fuck you,” he says. “If we’re being all open suddenly, why don’t you tell me why we haven’t fucked in months? Or is that a conversation you only want to have when one of us is stinking drunk?”

The silence that falls between them then feels so charged that Steve almost worries Billy’s going to hit him, for the first time in years.

Steve’s heart feels like it’s pounding in his throat as he turns to look away from Billy, out over the shaded lawn of headstones. This little tiny patch of nowhere where, if it weren’t for Billy, he’d probably have ended up buried himself, someday.

“Maybe it’s not me who’s got a problem with the truth in this relationship,” he manages to spit out when the only reaction he gets from Billy is stony silence, and god he could go for one of those cigarettes right now, but they’re still in Billy’s jacket and Steve is not about to ask him for one now.

He breathes hard through his nose. Leans a little against the nearest headstone and stares down at his scuffed dress shoes. Something about the distinctive Hawkins smell of the trees and the soil making him feel out of time. Making all the little snapshots of their life together play before his eyes with that much more clarity. 

“I tried to come out to them,” he says, quieter now. “Or to mom, anyway. Back when we first started dating. Before you asked me not to.”

He glances back at Billy for just long enough to see that he’s listening before he continues.

“I was so happy, and so… _proud_ that notorious heartbreaker Billy Hargrove actually wanted _me_. I don’t know why I thought she’d get it, but when she didn’t…

Billy is still silent behind Steve and the thought that he might not even be listening is a kind of terrifying Steve doesn’t want to examine, but he keeps on going anyway. If for no other reason than the fact that he doesn’t think he _could_ stop now.

“My parents have been making me feel small and stupid for everything I do since as long as I can remember. And I’ve always taken it on the chin because I thought I deserved it, or it’d make me stronger, or at least that because they’re family… But when they were telling me about the job offer the other night, the way they talked about us, the way _she_ talked about us made me so angry...

“Like no matter how many times I try to tell her this is real, that this means something to me, she’s not listening. She doesn’t want to hear it. What I do at home, what we’ve been doing together, the last twelve years, none of that even exists as a blip on her fucking radar, and I’m sick and tired of it. 

“So fuck no, I wasn’t gonna tell you about the damn offer, because the idea that I’d actually take it is fucking _insulting_. Like, they think I’ve just been sitting up there in New York missing this fucking place, missing some kind of life they thought I wanted. Just because I decided on a career my dad can’t brag about at the country club, and I’ve chosen to spend my life with a man. It’s _bullshit_.”

His voice has gone a little too loud at the last bit. Steve takes a big breath, shakes his head, shrugs. Tries his damndest to calm down again. It only works a little, his heart is still hammering in his chest as he jerks his chin back at Billy. “And now you’re saying you think that, too?”

Billy doesn’t say anything for a bit. It gets harder and harder for Steve not to butt in, not to disturb the pause with his own shit. Because he wants to hear Billy say something, _anything_. If he doesn’t, Steve has no earthly idea how they are going to get out of this. 

He holds his breath when Billy finally speaks up, his voice gruff enough to be barely audible. 

“C’mere, pretty boy.” 

A little reluctantly, Steve returns to the bench. He feels antsy with all the pent-up emotion he feels like he’s been holding inside for _years_ , and jumps a little when Billy pulls him in closer, but the solid warmth of his presence helps a little. And at least they’re still not making eye-contact. Steve thinks he’d shake apart if he had to endure that right now. 

“I don’t think you get...” Billy starts, slowly, chewing on the words, like he has to work hard to get them out of his mouth. “I don’t think you know... how fucking scared I am. _All_ _the_ _time_. That you’ll just realise this, _us_ , it isn’t what you fuckin’ want. And then you’ll up and— and leave.” 

Part of Steve wants to flare up at this, but he bites his tongue, keeps quiet to let Billy have his say. He does take Billy’s hand though, and feels relieved when Billy squeezes back. 

“I never expected to have any of this. Not any of it. You and me. The fucking dog.” Billy snorts bitterly and shakes his head. For a moment Steve thinks he might not go on talking, but then he does. Slowly. 

“I had, like, this plan. Get out of this shithole. Never look back. Be a fucking success. Prove to him that I _could_. Show him that nothing he ever said about me was true. That I _can_ be good at something even if I am a fucking faggot.” 

The tone of Billy’s voice changes at those words, make him sound older. Meaner. Steve can imagine Neil Hargrove uttering them, spitting them out, though he never even really met the man. It makes the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 

“But then you— you were there. And it _changed_ things. Like, it _meant_ more. You made it mean more if I graduated with fucking honors, or if I got that damned cushy job.

“The stuff… the apartment, the car... I guess at some point I was just trying to prove it to you, that I can give you all of that stuff. Everything you would have had if you’d stayed in Hawkins, and then some. Trust fund or not, _parents_ or not. Make sure you didn’t have a reason for going back.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say for a long time. But he does settle closer as he searches for the right words, leans his head on Billy’s broad shoulder, and sighs a little when Billy leans a little bit back into him. 

“I was in love with you before you became all big and successful and started buying me things, you know,” he says a little stupidly. Turns his face just enough that all he can see of Billy is the stubble of his jaw. All he can smell is his aftershave. He presses into that. “And I’d still be with you if we lived in a cave in the woods, or a cardboard box on 5th Avenue. I’m with you because of… because of _you_. And it’s not perfect, okay, but we pick up the slack for each other, and have each other’s backs when we need it, and I just…”

Steve sits up a little and turns Billy’s face gently to look at him, looks into his tear-damp eyes. 

“I wanna be with you for the rest of my fucking life, okay?”

Billy just blinks at him in silence for a long moment before replying.

“You need to be careful with the stuff you say, Stevie,” he says, half-choking on the words. “‘Cause it almost sounds like you’re proposing to me, and I can’t even…”

What Billy can or can’t do seems to be unclear even to Billy himself. After a moment, he gives up on searching for the right words, just turns his face away, as if Steve couldn’t already see the tracks of wetness on his cheeks. Steve doesn’t insist, just lets his fingers trail over the side of Billy’s face. 

“So what if I am?” he asks, and Billy huffs, tries to wipe at his eyes. “What if I mean every word? Is it that crazy? You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it at all.”

Billy makes a strained noise and shakes his head slightly, giving up on the tears and just closing his eyes for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is a hoarse whisper.

“It’s not crazy.” 

He reaches over and entwines their fingers cautiously, and Steve feels his heart squeeze hard in his chest as he settles back in close against Billy’s side. 

Siouxsie makes a soft sound and resettles to cover both of their laps, stretched out long as she can go. The two of them share a quiet laugh, and then a long, slow kiss.

The only thing that pulls them apart moments later is the shuffling sound of footsteps through the grass, half-distant, at the entrance to the cemetery. But even as Billy tenses at the sight of the slowly approaching old woman, Steve holds on to him tight and stays close.

“Stay,” he whispers as she glances over on her way to a grave. 

“Scandalizing Hawkins one grandma at a time, Stevie?” Billy asks, raising one eyebrow. His voice is still raw, his eyes are wet and his nose is dribbling a little, but he sounds more like his old self, and it feels so good to hear it. Feels even better when he pulls Steve close and kisses him again. 

When they are ready to let go of each other and get some air, Billy sighs and leans back against the bench. “Been trying not to get us railroaded out of Hawkins all weekend. Wasted so much time.”

“Let’s not, in the future,” Steve suggests, and he can feel Billy shoot him a look, showing that he knows exactly what Steve means by that offhand remark. And he holds his breath, hoping that Billy won’t recoil from the thought. 

“Wherever you go, I go,” Billy says, and Steve flushes a little but he hardly cares, his heart feels so fucking light as he leans in again to settle his head on Billy’s shoulder. 

Eventually they return to the Wheelers’ for the second half of the party, and this time they stay attached at the hip, drinking from each other’s glasses and sitting so close that their knees keep touching like a couple of teenagers. After a while Billy gets up next to him, maybe to go to the bathroom, and even then, Steve is reluctant to let him go. But he half-shifts in his chair, intending to give Billy space to slip out. Looks up questioningly when Billy doesn’t. 

“You want to?” Billy asks, jerking his chin towards the dance floor where a slow dance has just started. 

Steve hesitates for a moment to look around. “You sure?”

“I’m asking,” is all Billy says in reply. Steve takes his hand and lets Billy lead him to the floor. Again, he looks over his shoulder, just to see if they have an audience. Because after all the song and dance this weekend of trying to stay in the closet, keeping their secret safely tucked away, he almost expects a minor earthquake. Maybe some villagers with torches and pitchforks.

But all he sees are a few encouraging smiles. The one or two dirty looks from people they don’t know or care about are easily outweighed by the argument that ensues between Mike and Lucas and Dustin about who owes who money for old bets they’d apparently placed and forgotten years ago.

Steve muffles his laughs at that in Billy’s shoulder, and feels a giddy rush when Billy’s arms tighten around his waist in response.

“In the spirit of honesty…” Billy murmurs just loud enough for Steve to hear after a while, and Steve pulls back slightly to look at him, curious. Billy’s blushing though, and smiling like what he’s about to say is stupid. He sighs and gives Steve a _don’t hate me_ look. “I threw away the wedding invitation. And the save-the-date.”

Steve doesn’t know how to feel for a moment. Gratified to have the mystery solved, embarrassed to have assumed Nancy and Jonathan really _forgot_ them, annoyed Billy’d put him through all that for... what? But then he sees the shame on Billy’s face, and he recalls his confessions back in the graveyard, how insecure he’s apparently felt with Steve for so long, and then he just feels love _._

“In the spirit of honesty,” he says, bumping his forehead against Billy’s. “I really like that car.” 

As good as it turns out, though, by the time the party is breaking up and Billy and Steve find their way back to the car, Steve is shamelessly reaching into Billy’s jacket pocket for a cigarette and lighting it with a deep sigh.

Billy catches his eye when Steve shoves the crumpled box into his own jacket and smirks, but Steve just snorts a soft laugh and offers him a drag with a muttered, “Shut up.”

Steve slips into the driver’s seat, but he doesn’t start the car right away, just steals the cigarette from Billy again. They pass it between them in companionable silence before Billy takes a last drag and flicks the butt onto someone’s sprinkler-wet lawn. 

“Are you really gonna tell your parents where to shove that job?” he asks quietly at last.

Steve glances over to meet his eyes and pulls him in for a quick kiss.

“Yes,” he says firmly.

There’s silence for another long while before Steve picks up the thread again.

“Are you gonna make an effort to spend more time with your fiancé?”

Billy grins a little at _fiancé_ and jabs Steve’s side with his elbow. “Yeah,” he promises. “You don’t expect us to move to Alaska and start saving whales though, do you?”

“Asshole,” Steve jabs him back, smiling just as wide. 

“Will you sleep in my bed tonight?” Billy asks softly after a while.

“No fucking force on earth could stop me,” Steve promises, and basks in the way Billy’s cheeks flush slightly as he starts the car with a roar.


End file.
